by JANICE FROST
“Well you’re used to analysing books, aren’t you? Digging deeper. Looking for the subtext. Studying the psychology of the characters, following patterns and connections. I imagine skills like that must be useful in investigating a crime.”
Jane smiled. It wouldn’t have occurred to her to make a link between investigative police work and reading literature.
She noticed that Karun’s seat was empty. He was probably getting the starters ready for Francesca and Kylie to serve. A few moments later, however, he, Frieda and Francesca began serving. There was no sign of Kylie.
“What happened to your other helper?” she asked Karun as he placed a plate of tofu halloumi and roasted vegetables in front of her.
“She hasn’t shown up.”
“Oh! Did she give a reason?” Jane felt a spike of annoyance at Kylie for letting her friends down.
“No. We’ve heard nothing from her. No worries. It’s not a big problem. We can manage without her.”
“I feel responsible after recommending her.”
“Well, you shouldn’t. It’s just one of those things,” he said.
“Problem?” Ed enquired. Jane explained.
“Not your fault at all. How well do you know her?”
“Hardly at all, actually. I met her in connection with work.”
“You tutor her?” Ed asked.
Jane hesitated. “No, not that work. My other work.”
“Right.”
Before he could follow it up, Jane said, “Tell me about your job.” She was aware that Ed wasn’t just a blacksmith, he was an artisan blacksmith.
“My father was a blacksmith. He taught me all the skills of the traditional blacksmith trade while I was growing up. It was a good grounding. But I also went to art college, and I did a business course. I knew I’d have to treat what I do as a business if I intended to make a living from it. I needed to learn how to market myself, as well as all the other business skills that didn’t come naturally to me.”
“I’ve seen your work. It’s exquisite. And Jan told me you won a gold medal from the Worshipful Company of Blacksmiths, no less.”
Ed laughed. “Sounds like a cult, doesn’t it? It allowed me to put some letters after my name, which is good for business. FWCB, Fellow of the Worshipful Company of Blacksmiths. Bit of a mouthful. And not all my work is arty. I do boring, functional work too. Gates and railings, for example.”
Jane suspected that even Ed’s ‘boring, functional work’ would be produced with a flair for design and detail. “And business is good, I hear — from Jan, that is.” Jane hoped Ed wouldn’t think she’d been looking him up. She had of course, though everything she’d found was connected with his business. He seemed to have no other online presence.
“Yes. It means I have to spend one day a week in my office and another day out and about visiting clients and delivering orders. Then there’s time spent on design. I used to push myself hard, work every hour of the week, and at weekends, but I try to take weekends off these days. You get to a certain age and suddenly you realise there’s more to life than just work.” He smiled. “Even when you love what you do.”
Jane was thinking of asking him if he’d always been a blacksmith when they were interrupted by Jan standing up to toast Yvonne. After his emotional speech, which left most of them dewy-eyed, the main course arrived. “Have you heard anything from Kylie?” Jane asked Francesca.
“Not a word. I don’t think Frieda and Karun will be giving her a second chance. It’s not difficult to text or call to let them know why she couldn’t make it, is it?”
Jane frowned. She didn’t know Kylie well enough to be a judge of her character, but she hadn’t got the impression that she was the type to let people down. She hadn’t identified the man who’d harassed her yet, but she’d given Jane no indication that she was about to give up. The reverse, in fact.
Jane felt a slither of anxiety. She shuddered. Ed asked if she felt cold. Unlikely, given that the café was glowing with warmth, as were the cheeks of most of the guests, though the latter might also be attributable to the wine.
“I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” Ed asked. He seemed very attentive, a fact that hadn’t been missed by Allie, whose right eye flickered in a half-wink.
“Absolutely.” But she wasn’t. Her head was full of Kylie. Why hadn’t she turned up for work, or even called? She decided to set her mind at rest by sending her a text. She took out her phone. “Excuse me. There’s something I forgot to tell my daughter.”
After sending the text, she could check her phone every so often and, with luck, hear that Kylie had found some other activity that she considered more attractive than waiting tables. A date with Ryan, perhaps.
The evening wore on. Jane’s phone remained resoundingly silent, save for a text from her son with a picture attached of him pulling a silly face. At some point, around ten, the champagne must have relaxed her, for she forgot about Kylie in her enjoyment of the company of Ed Shipley and her friends. The café was bathed in warmth, friendship and good humour.
After the meal, the tables were pushed aside, and they played charades. Charades was a favourite of Jane’s. They played in two teams of four and Ed was on Jane’s team.
Other games followed, then there was music and dancing. Somehow, it was getting on for one. Jane felt flushed and light-headed. She had a sense that she’d been concerned about something earlier but as she couldn’t remember what it was, it couldn’t be all that important, could it?
At around one fifteen, there was a loud knock at the door. Someone said, jokingly, that it was the police, come to warn them to keep the noise down.
It was the police.
But they hadn’t come about the noise.
Chapter Fourteen
Karun opened the door. “You’re lucky I answered. You didn’t do the secret knock.” He giggled.
Jane giggled too, until she recognised the stern-faced woman thrusting her way past Karun into the café. Everyone fell silent. It was as if DI Warwick had brought some of the night’s chill inside with her. She was shadowed by a younger man, DS Elias Harper.
There was no preamble. Warwick’s eyes swept the room and came to rest on Jane.
Ed looked at Jane. “Jane, do you know these two?”
“Yes. They’re police officers. Detectives.” She searched Warwick’s face for an explanation.
“Sorry to intrude on your celebration. Special Constable Bell, is there somewhere we can talk privately?”
“You can use the kitchen,” Frieda offered. She showed them through.
Warwick closed the door on the subdued partygoers. “How drunk are you?”
Jane avoided the question. “What’s this about?”
“How well do you know a young woman, a student at the university by the name of Kylie Bright?”
Jane’s heart lurched with anxiety. “Why? Has something happened to her?”
“You called her earlier in the evening. Yesterday evening, to be precise. Later on, you sent her a text asking if she was okay because she hadn’t shown up for work. Did you have a reason for believing that she might not be okay?”
“I . . . Please, just tell me she’s all right.” Jane cringed at the way her words sounded — thick and slurry. She thought she saw disgust flicker in DI Warwick’s eyes.
“I wish I could, but it would be a lie.”
DS Harper cleared his throat. “Kylie Bright has been found dead. We think she was murdered.”
“Oh no!” Jane covered her mouth with both hands.
“Oh yes.” She recoiled as Warwick took a couple of steps towards her and was immediately angry. Why should she feel intimidated? Hell, Warwick couldn’t consider her a suspect, so why the hostility?
“What was your phone call about, and why were you so concerned about Kylie’s wellbeing earlier this evening?”
“I . . . she was trying to track down a man who harassed her in a restaurant last week. I was worried she’d found him
and . . .” Jane lost her train of thought. Her brain was processing in slow motion. She tried to go back to the start. “I was called to the scene of an assault on a young man, Ryan Brown, while on duty just over a week ago.”
Steph ran her fingers through her hair. “I’m not quite getting this. Was this Ryan Brown the person who harassed Kylie Bright?”
“No. They’d only just met. We . . . I wondered if Ryan’s attacker might be the same man who harassed Kylie. Ryan was attacked after he left the restaurant with Kylie.”
“Kylie witnessed the assault?”
“No, but Kris did. But he couldn’t give a description because he didn’t speak English very well. Jan helped with that.”
“Kris? Jan? Who the hell are they?”
Jane frowned. “Kris is a hospital porter. Jan’s a stonemason. He works at the cathedral.”
Warwick and Harper exchanged confused glances. “I don’t think we’re going to get much sense out of her until she sobers up,” Warwick said. “I’m going back to the scene. You stick around, talk to her some more, see if you can piece together some sort of coherent narrative. Probably a lost cause.” She turned her steely gaze on Jane. “Try to concentrate and give us a joined-up picture of what you’re talking about. If I find out you’ve caused this young woman’s death by dabbling in things you don’t understand, there’s going to be hell to pay.” She stormed out the door.
After she’d gone, Karun came into the kitchen and asked how much longer they were likely to be. To Jane’s relief, DS Harper replied, “Not long.”
“Allie and Pete are going to wait and walk home with you, Jane.” Karun told her.
“No, please tell them to go. I’ll take a taxi if I don’t feel like walking.”
“I’ll see Ms Bell home,” DS Harper said.
Mistakenly thinking that he meant immediately, Jane stood up. Harper waved her down again. To Karun he said, “Can you get her a coffee?” He looked pleased when Karun asked if he’d like one too.
“Ms Bell, I know that DI Warwick was a bit abrupt with you. She’s had a long day, and now this, a new murder added to her workload. We came rushing here hoping for a lead after finding that you’d left a message on Kylie Bright’s phone. She was frustrated and disappointed that you were unable to tell us anything meaningful.”
Jane supposed that was a polite way of telling her she was too pissed to make much sense. It wasn’t just the champagne. Her mind was struggling to process the shock of Kylie’s murder. She felt a stab of anger at DI Warwick for insinuating that her actions might have been to blame for Kylie’s death. It was followed, immediately, by another stab — of guilt. She should never have encouraged Kylie to seek out the man who’d harassed her in the restaurant, particularly as she’d had a suspicion, albeit unfounded, that he might be violent.
Karun handed her a mug of coffee. “Okay?” Jane nodded. “Here you go. He thrust another mug at DS Harper and went back into the café.
“Can we go right back to the beginning again?” DS Harper said.
It took about fifteen minutes of stopping and starting for Jane to relate the story of Ryan Brown’s assault and his connection with Kylie Bright. Every time she faltered, she had to start all over again.
DS Harper seemed to have infinite patience. He didn’t get angry when she lost the plot or garbled something nonsensical or out of context. Finally, he seemed satisfied that he had a version of events that might satisfy DI Warwick’s demand for a ‘coherent narrative.’
Jane’s mouth was dry. The coffee had tasted bitter, and she’d let it get cold. She noticed DS Harper savouring every sip, as though it might be his last for a very long time.
“Can I go home now?”
“Yes, you may.”
They went back into the café. Many of the candles still flickered with a faint, guttering light, casting gloomy shadows on the walls. Someone had turned off the twinkly lights. One or two of the balloons bobbed on the floor, almost deflated. Only Frieda, Karun and Ed remained. Jane wasn’t sure what she felt about Ed still being there.
“Okay if I walk you home?” he asked.
“I don’t need an escort.”
“I know that. I thought you might like some company.”
Jane agreed. The alternative was to have the police escort her.
DS Harper gave an odd little bow. “I’ll see myself out. Thanks for the coffee.”
As soon as he was out the door, the questions flew.
“What was all that about?” Frieda asked.
“That DI Warwick seemed like she was on the warpath,” added Karun. “Was it you she was upset with? Is it something to do with your special constable work?”
Jane explained as best she could, leaving out Kylie’s name. She ended by saying, “DI Warwick was upset because she’s already overworked, and this new murder investigation is likely to be added to her caseload. They just wanted to ask me a few questions because I sort of knew the victim. They found a message on her phone that I left earlier today. I mean, yesterday. I’m sorry, I can’t disclose any more details. You’ll hear about it soon enough.”
Frieda gave Jane a hug. “When you said you were going to volunteer as a special, I thought you’d be dealing with shoplifting and the like, not murder. Do look after yourself, sweetie.”
Jane and Ed set off on foot. Jane noticed Ed’s van parked a short way from the café but didn’t comment. To tell the truth, she did feel like a bit of company after hearing about Kylie, and a walk would take longer than a car ride.
“Another murder,” Ed said. “It wasn’t this student who was supposed to be working for Frieda and Harun this evening, was it?”
“How did you . . ?” Too late. Jane clamped her hand over her mouth.
“A wild guess,” Ed said.
“I called her before the party, the police saw my name on her phone and thought I might be able to help. I couldn’t. I could barely put a proper sentence together I was so drunk.”
“I’m sure they appreciated whatever help you were able to give.”
Jane thought of DI Warwick’s parting words. “I doubt it,” she said. With a sinking feeling, she realised that Warwick could make things very difficult for her.
Ed was a comforting presence, but when they reached her house, she hesitated to ask him inside. He took the decision from her.
“I’ve got a breakfast meeting with a client in Horncastle in the morning, so I’d better go home and get some sleep.”
“Thanks for keeping me company.”
“My pleasure. Any time.”
There was a moment’s awkwardness, then Ed bent to kiss her on the cheek. “Take care, Jane. Call me if you’re in any sort of trouble.”
Jane wasn’t sure what to say, so she just nodded.
Inside her cosy house, the door locked securely behind her, she reflected on the events of the evening. She had no right to feel safe. Kylie was dead, and it was her fault. She wished she could do something to help, but she could do nothing. She drank a large glass of water, swallowed a couple of paracetamols and went to bed.
In the morning, she received a call from the police station informing her that a complaint had been issued against her by Detective Inspector Stephanie Warwick. An inquiry was pending. In the meantime, she was suspended from duty.
Chapter Fifteen
“That woman is a bloody loose cannon. How she ever got through the selection process is a complete mystery. Are they so desperate to put boots on the streets these days that they’ll appoint any idiot who can scribble an X on an application form?”
Elias was quiet while Steph ranted on for a bit longer. He’d just returned to the murder scene with the news that Jane Bell seemed to have been carrying out her own investigation into the murder of Mark Ripley, and that for some reason, she’d associated Mark’s death with an assault on a friend of Kylie’s called Ryan Brown.
Steph glared at him. He didn’t flinch. She’d noted before that it never worked when she attempted to exert her au
thority over him. She couldn’t stop herself responding with sarcasm. “Oh. Right. You think so, do you? Well, why don’t we put her in charge of both of our murder investigations? Maybe she can solve them for us while we have a little holiday.”
He was probably wondering why she was so incensed by Jane Bell. Her dislike of the woman had begun even before she’d found out what she’d been getting up to behind her back. Perversely, the fact that there was no real basis for it made her dislike Bell all the more.
Steph regretted her sarcasm. It was unprofessional and showed her in a bad light. She wasn’t sure what opinion of her Elias had formed in the time he’d been working with her. She didn’t particularly care whether he liked her or not, but if she wanted to maintain his respect — which was vital to their working relationship — she’d need to try harder.
The mood swings she’d been enduring lately had to be something to do with Cal. He was seldom out of her thoughts, and his nocturnal visitations were depriving her of sleep, making her edgy and irritable day and night alike. An unsettling thought occurred to her. What if she was starting to blame Cal for her own shortcomings and failures?
“So,” she said, “her half-baked theory is that this unknown man who harassed Kylie Bright in the restaurant assaulted Ryan Brown because he had better luck than him hitting on Kylie? And she’s got a suspicion that said unknown man is the same person who attacked and killed Mark Ripley. Because why?”
“I think it’s more of a hunch than anything. She saw similarities between the victims. Mark and Ryan are close in age. Both were students. Both were beaten. I know Mark died, but we don’t know for certain that the perp set out to kill him. Mark could have been pushed and was unfortunate enough to strike his head on the sharp edge of the step. On the other hand, it’s possible the perp did set out to kill him and would have killed Ryan too if a passer-by hadn’t called out to him. Bell was present at Mark’s murder scene, and she responded to the attack on Ryan Brown. I think she’s just made a link between the two in her mind. She’s inexperienced.”
Steph recalled something else Elias had mentioned. “You said Bell asked Kylie to find out the name of the man who harassed her, even though she suspected he could be dangerous?”