“I disagree,” Martha chips in. “This is obviously a big event for the locals. Refusing their invite would upset them and could alienate us. If we go along it shows we respect their local customs and appreciate the invitation. All of which could make them more cooperative in terms of answering our questions for the investigation. Not to mention all the dancing and drinking will help to loosen tongues and people might start talking about stuff they wouldn’t under normal circumstances. It makes perfect sense that we go along.”
“Martha’s right,” I say, earning myself a funny look from her. “Plus, you’re just saying that because you don’t want to go to the dance and have to wear a kilt.”
“A kilt? Seriously?” Martha laughs. “That settles it. All three of us are going to this dance. I want to get myself dressed up in some posh outfit and I definitely want to see Charlie in a kilt. Must make sure I take loads of photos on the night. Everyone at the agency is going to love seeing those!”
Charlie sighs and pushes up from his chair. “I’m not going to win this particular battle am I? Not against you two anyway.”
“No you’re not,” we chorus.
“Right, well, I’m off for a run before we start the work of the day.” He turns to me, “I’m thinking we’ll head in to town about ten and visit the library where they keep all the local records and see if we can get any joy with finding out who this mystery woman is.”
An hour later I’m in the kitchen ready and waiting for Charlie to finish getting changed so we can both head into town. Martha is carrying out some research on her own today and I can hear her outside talking on her phone. Curiosity – or just plain old nosiness - getting the better of me I walk towards the door of the lounge to listen to Martha who is standing in the garden.
“I know. I miss you too but I’ll be back soon and we can plan a little weekend away together,” I hear her say.
Martha has a boyfriend? How come she’s never mentioned anyone? How come she’s making a play for Charlie if she’s with someone?
“She’s doing OK,” she replies to whoever is on the other end of the phone.
I instantly want to know exactly who she’s talking about. Who’s the ‘she’ in the ‘doing OK’? Is she talking about me? Who is she talking about me to?
“Charlie?” she pauses and laughs at whatever the other person says. “Yeah, well, you know Charlie. Look, they’re still here so I’m going to go but I’ll call you later when I’m on my own and we can talk properly.”
“What are you doing?”
I jump a foot as Charlie walks into the room giving me a strange look. “Nothing,” I say, pasting on a smile. “Ready to go?”
He grabs one of the sets of car keys from the table. “Yep. Let’s make a move.”
We walk down the path towards the car and Martha gets up from the outdoor table and chairs. “You guys off then?”
Charlie nods. “We’ll be a few hours probably. One way or another we’re going to find out who this mystery woman is.”
“OK, catch you later.”
We’ve reached the end of the track which leads to the main road across the island when Charlie pulls the car to a halt as we wait for an oncoming vehicle.
“So what was she saying then?” he asks as he glances across at me.
“Who?” I feign ignorance.
“Come on, I know you were just eavesdropping on Martha’s call back there. Find out anything interesting?”
“I think, strange as it may sound, she might have been talking to someone she’s involved with.”
Charlie frowns. “Why is that strange?”
“Well she hasn’t mentioned anybody. No significant other. I wasn’t aware she was dating someone. She was saying she missed him. That as soon as this case was sorted they’d get away for a weekend together. Did she mention anybody to you when you both went to Edinburgh?”
“No but that doesn’t mean she isn’t with someone. Perhaps she just prefers to keep her private relationship life and her work life separate.” He looks at me again. “Not unlike someone else I know.”
“That’s where it rings even more bells though. I think she might be involved with somebody at the agency.”
“You two have more in common than you’d thought then if that is the case. See, maybe you can be friends after all.”
“Ha ha!” I punch him playfully on the arm. “Seriously though. The caller asked about you. In reply she just said something about, well you know Charlie.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he says, sounding a little miffed.
“Exactly what I was wondering. Martha also said she’s doing ok. No name was mentioned but I’m thinking she was talking about me. Doing OK, those were her words. Not quite glowing praise is it?”
“Wonder who this guy is then. Agency policy is to declare any involvements between members of staff but obviously not everyone does.”
“You did. When you recommended me for agency work you said you declared our involvement.”
“That’s because I’m a good boy,” Charlie replies with a chuckle.
“Yeah of course you are,” I say in disbelief. “Agent Charlie Huxton never breaks the rules.”
“Rumours usually get around anyway.” He slows the car as we approach the edge of Farraton. It’s a bustling town. Not huge by mainland standards but by Farra standards it’s the most significant area of population on the island. The main shops, medical centre, library, museum and community centre are all here.
“Why be secretive?” he continues. “Anyway, everyone knows it can change the dynamic of a working relationship if people in a personal relationship are involved in a dangerous situation. I figure it makes sense if everyone on a case knows about and is prepared for those complications.”
“Meaning what?” I quiz as Charlie reverses the car into a gap between, bizarrely, a tractor and a quad bike. People on this island get round using whatever they have I guess.
Charlie switches off the ignition and avoids meeting my eyes as he says, “If we end up in danger whilst working a case then it’s obvious priorities are skewed. Other people on the case should be aware of that happening.”
“You’re being evasive,” I persist. “Priorities are skewed how?”
He sighs and finally turns towards me. “I mean, because of our personal relationship, I’m more likely to prioritise protecting or rescuing you before anybody else. I’m more likely to break rules, do things I shouldn’t to ensure your safety.”
I feel a flicker of warmth and comfort as well as a flicker of alarm at his words.
“And the agency don’t frown on this?”
“It’s not ideal but it happens and they accept and work around it. You can’t prevent people who work together getting involved, Amber. It happens. It’s not just sexual relationships either. People become good mates and might do something rash to save a particularly close friend. It’s thought the best way to deal with that is to be open and honest about it then everyone knows the situation, knows what they’re dealing with.”
Across the main street in Farraton I spot a cake shop. Its window is piled high with fancy cakes and freshly baked loaves on trays and display stands. I wonder if they have any custard slices. I adore custard slices. They’re my go-to cake for stress relief. Well, my go-to cake for anything and everything really. A part of me is tempted to do a detour and drag Charlie across to the bakery but I manage to resist. Just. We’re working here. No cakes today.
I link my arm through his and snuggle up as we approach the library which houses most of the local records. “Anyway, things work both ways. I could also take risks on a case in order to protect or save you.”
As he opens the library door Charlie smiles at me and winks. “You could indeed.”
“So do you have any ideas who she could be involved with at the agency?” I persist.
Charlie looks disinterested. “Could be anybody. Stone would probably be at the top of the list of likely suspects though.”
&
nbsp; “Stone? Why? Who’s he?”
“Just one of the agents but he has something of a reputation with the ladies. The guy thinks he’s God’s gift to women.”
I shake my head. “Somehow that doesn’t sound like the type of guy I could see Martha going for.”
“Who knows?” Charlie shrugs. “For that matter, who cares who Martha might or might not be involved with? It’s her business.”
Spoilsport.
Thirty minutes later we have tracked down Fiona, the head librarian, showed her our ID and are sitting going through records for the island’s school. Thankfully there aren’t that many schools or pupils on the island because without a surname it’s a bit like the proverbial searching for a needle in a haystack. Records are, naturally, arranged by surname and all we’ve got to go on is a boy, possibly called Luke, who is about five years old.
Charlie rubs a hand across his eyes and leans back in his chair. “Nothing. The only Luke we can find is seven years old and has two sisters. Nothing fits with what we’re looking for.”
I get up and stretch out my arms and shoulders. “What about searching for any children in the school system here that have the surname Garrison?” I suggest. “Perhaps the woman in the shop misheard the boy’s name and it isn’t Luke. If the child is possibly Flynn Garrison’s from an affair then he might be registered by his surname.”
Charlie starts tapping at the keys again. “If the woman was so keen to keep her identity a mystery then it’s doubtful the child will have his name, even if he is Garrison’s son, but yeah, got to be worth a try.”
I move to stand behind him and massage his neck whilst reading the screen over his shoulder.
“Nothing. No children by the name of Garrison in the school system here.”
I sigh. “So she doesn’t live here and we can’t, not yet anyway, find any record on flights or ferries of a woman with a young child arriving on the island on a regular basis around the times Garrison visited Farra.”
“No, nothing yet but Martha is doing a more thorough check of passenger travel records for the island today just in case there’s a pattern of a woman travelling alone regularly to the island. She’ll cross reference ferry and flights and see if any names keep cropping up.”
“Let’s go and check local registry next,” Charlie says. “The Births, Deaths & Marriages office is just along the street.”
Inside the rather austere registry office we again show ID and a young guy with an accent so strong we can barely make out what he’s saying helps us search the detailed records.
“We drew another blank,” Charlie says as we climb back into the car an hour later.
After trawling through all the births registered on the island between four and six years ago we have nothing that might fit with what we’re looking for.
I once read an article about a Scottish island where the population was dwindling so fast they were advertising for incomers, fresh people to come and live on the island and raise their families. I think successful applicants even got a house to live in rent free on that island if I remember right. Having studied the birth records for Farra for the last few years I can see how islands can easily end up needing to advertise for people to move there.
“You’d think with so few births on the island trying to track down and get names for the boy would be fairly easy,” I mutter as I plug in my seatbelt.
“Not,” Charlie replies, “If the parents don’t want the child to be identified.”
When we arrive back at the cottage Martha is on the phone again. She lifts a hand in greeting but continues her conversation. Charlie and I go through to the kitchen in search of food and to decide what we can all eat for dinner.
“Hey, guys,” she says moments later wandering into the kitchen. “Do we know who mystery woman is yet then?”
“No,” I reply, opening the fridge and hoping to spot something tasty for dinner. “How about you? Any luck with the travel stuff?”
She shakes her head. “Not in terms of locating a regular travel pattern for a single white female and child but I did find something interesting.”
“Oh?” Charlie leans against the worktop. “Come on then, tell us all.”
“I happened to notice that Garrison’s wife booked her flight to Farra, via Edinburgh, before the police got in touch and told her about his murder.”
I shut the fridge and stare at Martha. “But she said she never visited the island.”
“Exactly,” Martha nods. “So why did she have a flight booked to come here?”
“You reckon she knew about his death before she was told?” I frown. “Which would mean she was somehow involved in his death.”
“If she was involved then the last thing she’d do would be book a flight before official word surely. She would know we’d eventually find out,” Charlie reasons, crossing his arms. “Doesn’t make sense.”
“She could have had another reason to visit,” Martha chips in. “Maybe she found out about his affair and she was flying here to catch them together and confront him.”
“I get the feeling she wouldn’t want a divorce.” I try to recall what she’d said and her obvious disapproval of her husband’s rejection of fame. “Being married to Flynn Garrison was her ticket to staying in the spotlight, without him, well, she’d lose some fame status surely?”
“Yeah that’s true but hell hath no fury like a woman scorned and all that,” Charlie says.
“And you’d know all about women scorned wouldn’t you, Charlie?” Martha laughs.
For a moment I wonder what she’s driving at with that comment. Did Charlie have a reputation with the women before we started seeing each other?
“So are you up for that, Amber?”
“Sorry?” I say, aware I’ve just missed a chunk of conversation whilst debating about Charlie’s relationship past.
“London,” Charlie says with a raised eyebrow. He knows I wasn’t paying attention. “I say we go and pay Mrs Garrison a surprise visit at her place in London. At the same time we can arrange a meeting with this Marshall Coombs guy, the one who Garrison fell out with when they were in the band together.”
“We’re all going?” I ask, thinking Martha will be tagging along too.
“No,” Martha says, giving me a conspiratorial look. “Just you and Charlie this time. I’ll stay here and keep things on track at this end.”
“When are we going?” I ask as I see Charlie opening up the laptop.
“First flight we can get,” he says, already on the website for the airline.
“We don’t want to miss the dance though,” I say, unable to keep the disappointment out of my voice at the idea we might be in London and not around for the social event of the year on Farra. Purely for work reasons, of course. The dance will be an excellent chance to chat with the locals and ask them loads of questions.
“Speak for yourself. Can’t be helped if we have to,” he shrugs.
I cotton on to what he’s up to. “Let me see the screen!”
He covers it with his hands.
“Charlie!”
“No way are you getting away with not attending this dance, Charlie. Amber and I are both desperate to see you in a kilt!” Martha laughs.
I push his hands off the computer screen and take over the keyboard. “There’s the once a week flight to London tomorrow morning but there’s no flight back on Saturday, not even via Edinburgh or Glasgow, in time for the dance, so we’ll have to get the flight back here tomorrow. It should still be enough time to get the things sorted that we need to though.”
“Book them now,” Martha says. She flings a credit card on the table. “Use that. It’s the charge card for the agency.”
Once the flights are booked we manhandle Charlie into the car and head up to the Big House for our appointment with Rhona to select outfits for the party at the weekend.
Rory answers the door and the boisterous yellow Labrador we met last time we visited the house pushes past him to greet us all w
ith an excited bark.
“Come in, come in,” Rory booms. “Rhona is waiting for you two young ladies upstairs with an array of outfits. Up the stairs, fifth door on your right.”
Martha is already on her way, feet on the bottom step, but I turn towards Charlie who is standing looking as though he’d much rather be somewhere else.
“As for you, young man,” Rory says to Charlie. “I’ve got some kilts and jackets laid out on the table in the dining room if you want to go through and try some on for size.” He points down the long corridor. “First door on the left.”
Charlie shoots me a ‘rescue me’ look but I ignore him and follow Martha up the stairs.
“Ah, ladies,” Rhona says, beckoning Martha and I towards the open door she is standing in front of. “I thought I heard voices. I’ve got some stunning dresses for you to try on.”
Inside the room it’s like some kind of designer clothes grotto. Evening gowns of all colours and fabrics are laid out on the bed, over chairs and hanging on a posh padded clothes rail.
“I think you’re both about the same size aren’t you?” Rhona says, looking us up and down.
“I’m a bit taller,” Martha replies then adds with a superior smile, “And fuller on the bust too.”
Yeah, we all know about Martha’s bust, thanks to her generously displaying it from behind towels and low cut jumpers these past few days for Charlie’s benefit.
“I thought this would be a good colour on you,” Rhona says, offering me a dark blue velvet dress with delicate straps.
Martha surveys me with a thoughtful expression on her face as I stand next to the mirror with the dress clasped in front of me. “Yeah, that colour does work, you’re right, good choice.” Turning away she adds, “It must be so difficult finding colours that look right with your skin and hair. You’re kind of in no man’s land aren’t you? Not an exciting red head and not a sexy blonde either are you?”
“My mum calls it strawberry blonde,” I say automatically, remembering the times my mum told me as a child how lucky I was to have such unusual hair.
Amber Reed Mysteries Volume One: Romantic Comedy Mystery Series Box Set (Amber Reed Celebrity Crimes Investigation Agency Mystery Box Set Book 1) Page 39