Christmas Trees

by Poppy Blake

  She glanced out of the window at the huge over-blown meringue snoozing on the lawn behind the lodges waiting for a gaggle of competitors and their supporters to descend and fill its interior with festive joy and laughter. Despite the tense atmosphere inside the café, she was forced to smile when she saw a group of villagers loitering outside the marquee, eager to use the final two hours to ensure their tree was the best it could be. Once again, Rosie heaved a sigh of relief that she had passed the judging baton on to Reverend Coulson.

  “Where’s Theo?” she asked.

  No sooner had the question exited her lips than she saw Theo appear from inside the marquee, a swagger of confidence in his step as he made his way along the path towards the café. However, he had travelled a mere ten steps when he was intercepted by two uniformed police officers. Even from that distance, Rosie could see his expression change from super-confidence to almost comedic alarm. As she continued to watch, he pointed towards the café, shook his head and made to leave the officers, but they restrained him, attached a pair of handcuffs and led him, complaining vociferously, towards one of the Land Rovers in the car park.

  “What’s going on?” cried Penny shooting towards the French doors as the police vehicle snaked slowly down the driveway towards the main road. “Why has Theo been arrested by the police? Does that mean that he, that it was Theo who tried to kill Rosie?”

  “Oh my God!” declared Mia and Grace in unison.

  “No way!” chorused Dylan and Sam.

  “But surely Theo didn’t set up the trap in the woods!”

  “He must have had an accomplice!”

  “Who?”

  For the next few minutes, discussion of the new development ricocheted around the café’s eaves until it reached screech level and DS Kirkham had to resort to banging his fist on the table to call for order. Whilst his craggy features gave the impression of a kindly teddy bear, his impressive bulk and the steely expression in his pewter eyes brooked no arguments.

  “Let me make it clear that Theo Morris has not been detained in connection with the attack on Miss Barnes last night. The reasons for his arrest will become clear in due course. I’m sure you all want to know who’s responsible for Mr Morris’s accident as well as what happened to Miss Barnes, so let’s get this unpleasant business over with, shall we? Would you all take a seat, please?”

  Rosie’s had no idea what the detention of Theo meant, or who was about to be frog-marched from the room by DS Kirkham and his colleague. In those long hours laid up in a hospital bed, drifting in and out of sleep because of the constant burble of noise, she had spent her time flicking through her internal Rolodex of theories, trying to produce a spark of inspiration, but her brain felt like a shipment of candy floss had taken up residence. Matt had refused to talk about the investigation on their journey home, and she had respected that.

  But was there some clue she had overlooked?

  Everything up at Ultimate Adventures had happened so quickly that she hadn’t been able to gain any sense of the identity of her assailant beneath the motorcycle leathers and helmet. She didn’t even know whether it was a man or a woman.

  At first, she had ruminated and cogitated on the possibilities and come to the conclusion that it couldn’t have been any of the stag party guests. Sam, Zara and Penny had been at the coast, Theo was busy working on his masterpiece in the marquee, Dylan, she assumed, had been on his way to the Drunken Duck when she’d left him to meet Grace and Abbi at the Ultimate Adventures lodge. On the other hand, none of them had an alibi for the attack on Theo and it had turned out that they all had a pretty strong motive to want him out of their lives.

  So who did that leave?

  After the assault on her life, they could definitely rule out a random stranger as the culprit. It had to be someone connected to the wedding party. She swept the room again for who remained on the list of possible suspects. There was no way she was even going to consider Grace or Josh as possible perpetrators – the thought was just too ridiculous. What bride or groom would have the spare mental capacity to organise and execute something like that? Carole or Gordon? Equally as incongruous! Corinne? Well, she had no connection with Theo and Rosie wasn’t even prepared to contemplate the possibility that it could be Mia, Freddie or Matt. Her brain started to hurt from overthinking and the lingering after-effects of the carbon monoxide.

  Everyone was now seated and waiting for the DS Kirkham’s pronouncements. Sam lounged on a sofa next to Zara, his left ankle crossed casually over his right knee, his right arm draped along the backrest, totally relaxed and unconcerned. It struck her for the first time how extraordinarily good-looking he was with his blond hair teased into a quiff and those startlingly blue eyes crinkling at the corners. She understood how women would be attracted to him when he was away from home on his golfing jaunts, oozing charm and charisma. He was clearly unconcerned that his secret was about to be revealed. Either that or he was in denial.

  “As we have Mr Wilson to thank for identifying the person responsible for both Miss Barnes’s and Mr Morris’s attacks, then I propose to allow him to take the floor. I suggest you listen carefully to what he has to say before asking questions. My constable and I will be watching everyone closely.”

  The room fell silent immediately.

  “Thank you,” said Matt, before turning to look at Rosie, his expression giving nothing away. “However, before I start, I want to say that I wouldn’t have uncovered any of this without Rosie’s help.”

  The audience swung their attention from Matt to Rosie and she felt her cheeks glow under their scrutiny. She managed a tentative smile of acknowledgement then averted her eyes, nervously fiddling with the friendship bracelet Mia had given her as an early Christmas present. Spasms of anxiety gnawed at her stomach and tightened her throat. After all, her attacker was somewhere in this room, watching her every move, working out how she had managed to escape with her life, maybe even preparing to lunge for her throat and squeeze and squeeze until her life drained away.

  She sought out Carole, who noticed her expression of panic and moved across the room to sit next to her, slotting her palm into hers and giving it a reassuring pat.

  “Theo’s accident was a shocking thing to happen, even more so because everyone is here to celebrate the forthcoming wedding of two people who are our friends. Grace and Josh were devastated about what happened in the woodland on Wednesday morning and so they asked Rosie and I to put on our metaphorical deerstalkers to see if we could help the police to identify the culprit. We agreed, and when we spoke to each one of you individually, it came as a surprise to discover that Theo seems to have upset you all at some stage and that everyone had the opportunity to set up the trip wire that caused him to fall from his cycle.”

  A collective intake of breath rolled through the room, but no one uttered a word as they were too busy hanging on Matt’s every word.

  “One of the things that struck us from the outset was that whoever targeted Theo must have known him extremely well to know he would choose to take that shortcut through the woodland to the finishing line. But then, it’s no secret he craves the top prize in everything he puts his mind to, no matter whose toes he has to trample on to get there.”

  Relief washed over Rosie that the police had prevented Theo from joining them in the café; it meant that Matt could be as frank as possible about the more unpleasant traits of his personality.

  “Josh invited Theo to his wedding because he’d offered to supply the wedding cars. We’ve heard that his vintage car hire company is a huge success because he’s a sharp, savvy businessman, unsentimental about his vehicles’ origins, and that he’s always on the look-out for a great deal, a tactic that has caused a huge amount of ill-feeling.”

  Zara looked up, her dark brown eyes widened, her lips parted, but no words came out. She turned towards Sam, silently pleading for his support. He grabbed her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

  “Now look here, Matt. Surely you can�
�t be suggesting that Zara had anything to do with Theo’s accident? He’s our sons’ godfather, for Christ’s sake!” Sam blustered with vicarious indignation. “And if you are also implying that she was responsible for attempting to asphyxiate Rosie up at Ultimate Adventures yesterday, then I suggest you go away and rethink your theory because you are clearly—”

  “Please, Mr Vardy, if you would allow Mr Wilson to continue,” snapped DS Kirkham, fixing Sam with a firm glare until he climbed down from his pulpit. “Thank you.”

  “Zara told Rosie and I that Theo had conned her grandfather out of his beloved Rolls Royce, a vehicle that had been his pride and joy and which he had wanted to pass on to the next generation. Sadly, his wish did not come to fruition because of the actions of Theo Morris. He tricked Mr Garstang into signing over the paperwork just weeks before he died. It was a despicable thing to do to an old man and Zara is quite right to have been furious about his deception. However, it does give her a strong motive for wanting Theo to suffer because of how he conducted himself towards a vulnerable member of her family.”

  “Motive!” blurted Sam, his eyes bulging with shock. “Is this some kind of—”

  “Mr Vardy,” growled DS Kirkham. “I shall have to ask you to leave if you’re unable to restrict your comments.”

  “Sorry.”

  Sam sunk back down onto the sofa and this time it was him who gripped Zara’s hand for support. Matt waited a couple of beats before continuing with his explanation, his eyes fixed on Sam who refused to look him in the eye.

  “It should be noted, however, that Theo did pay a reasonable price in the transaction – not the full market value, perhaps, but not so far from it as to raise any suspicions that he’d ripped off the owner – which is the trademark of many a business deal, after all.

  “So yes, Zara does have a motive and, like everyone else in the stag party, she had the opportunity to leave her lodge after the men had left for the cycle ride and before the rest of the group woke up and went in search of breakfast. She could have jogged over to the woods, set up the trap and returned without anyone being any the wiser. Okay, it was possible that, for once, Theo might decide to follow the official race route, but what were the chances of that? As we know, Theo Morris doesn’t play by the rules.”

  “Okay, even if I did have a reason to want Theo to pay for what he did to my family, what about Rosie?” fired Zara, at last galvanised to speak up for herself. “What possible reason could I have for wanting to hurt her? She’s shown us nothing but kindness since we arrived, and if you’re going to accuse me of dressing up in leathers and riding one of those quad bikes through the woods by myself before attempting to kill Rosie then you are even crazier than I give you credit for.”

  “It does seem a little far-fetched, I agree,” said Matt, pacing across the floor as he considered his next line of attack. “But everyone knew Rosie and I were asking questions, and unbeknown to her, she said something she didn’t realise the importance of, but the perpetrator did. Now that we know the reason Theo was targeted, we know who the culprit is.”

  “Who?” demanded Zara.

  “All in good time.”

  Matt paused in his wandering, his fingers stroking at his clean-shaven chin, and Rosie smiled. He looked exactly how she expected a real detective to look and she wondered, not for the first time, whether he had missed his vocation. She knew that if his father hadn’t been involved in the tragic accident that ended his life, Matt would most likely be working in the police service. She watched him meet Zara’s eyes and saw her raise her chin and stare back at him with the confidence of a clear conscience.

  “But I know it wasn’t you, Zara.”

  Despite her bravado, Zara closed her eyes briefly and released a long sigh. She relaxed back against Sam, hugging her arms into her chest, and staring at Matt with blatant irritation. But she remained silent, like everyone else, anxious to see in whose direction Matt would launch his next missile.

  Chapter 18

  Electricity sparkled through the café as Matt’s audience anticipated his next pronouncement; every one of them terrified that they would be his next target. Most were contemplating their hands and fingernails as though they were the most fascinating things they had ever seen, yet sent covert glances from beneath their lashes at each other.

  “Zara wasn’t the only member of the wedding party with cause to loathe Theo, was she Abbi?”

  “What do you mean? I didn’t loathe him.” Abbi shot back her denial so quickly that it was clear to everyone it was a lie.

  “You didn’t like him though, did you?”

  “Well, you’ve just told us that a lot of people didn’t like him,” Abbi reasoned, her eyebrows raised, her carefully-outlined lips twitching with nerves. “Why should I be any different?”

  “Theo could have made a real nuisance of himself, if he’d wanted to. He could have put a spanner in the works of your fledgling movie career.”

  “Abbi? What’s Matt talking about?” asked Dylan, his face creasing with confusion.

  “When Rosie and I interviewed Abbi, she told us about how worried she was that the director of her current film would discover that she’d lost her licence for drink driving.”

  “Is that true, Abbi?”

  “Yes, it’s true. It’s never been a secret, actually. It wasn’t my proudest moment and I’ve moved on. And anyway, if I lose my part in this film there’ll be others.”

  “I can vouch for Abbi. I know how upset she is about what happened – and it was six years ago!” said Grace, her face as pale as clotted cream.

  “Ah, yes, but it wasn’t the main reason you were nervous about Theo’s threat to stir up trouble, was it?”

  “I don’t know what you are inferring—” began Abbi, but her expression had morphed from irritation to nervousness.

  “I’m referring to the fact that when Theo stumbled across the piece in a local newspaper about your driving conviction, it also reported a more interesting transgression that Theo realised would affect your current career path much more. He was going to reveal your deepest, darkest secret, wasn’t he?”

  “Abbi? What’s he talking about?” asked Dylan, turning in his seat to face her.

  “Nothing Dylan—”

  “I found the article on the internet yesterday when everyone was busy doing other things.” Matt reached into his pocket and produced a printout which he handed to Abbi. “This is what Theo showed you on Tuesday night, isn’t it? After you’d spent the whole afternoon regaling everyone with details of your starring role in a movie. Did Theo threaten to expose your lapse in integrity when he had an audience, so he could watch you squirm?”

  “No.”

  “If Theo hated one thing it was being up-staged. So, I think he was waiting to reveal the juicy nugget of information he had stumbled across until the perfect opportunity presented itself, maybe even at the wedding reception. You didn’t want your secret to poke its head above the parapet and spoil your future, did you?”

  “Abbi, will you tell me what’s going on?”

  If looks could kill Rosie knew Matt would be gasping for his final breath. Abbi could certainly have landed the part of the Wicked Witch of Willerby in that year’s local pantomime without any recourse to her acting skills.

  “Do you want to tell everyone, or shall I?”

  Any last trace of remaining colour in Abbi’s face seeped away and the indignation drained from her body. Her diamanté hairclip and pearl earrings the size of grapes looked brash against her grey complexion.

  “Okay. Okay. I am totally ashamed of what I did and I’ve been trying to put things right ever since. What Theo didn’t know, and wouldn’t let me explain, was that I’ve been taking private drama lessons for years. I sat my final exams last month, which I passed with Distinction.”

  “What are you talking about?” asked Zara.

  “My acting qualifications.” Abbi averted her eyes to concentrate on her manicure, picking at a flake of glitter on
her thumbnail as she tried to build up the courage to utter her next few words. “My sister sat them for me.”

  “She did what?” gasped Dylan.

  “I’m a twin, you know that. Alicia’s much cleverer than I am. She has an almost photographic memory whilst I got stuck with the practicality genes. I was useless at taking exams. I would get so nervous that I would just fall apart. No matter what I tried - and believe me I tried everything - my mind went totally blank every time I sat in front of one of those little desks and was told I could turn over the exam paper. So, I did the practical and Alicia sat the written paper as me. No one guessed, and why would they? She aced it, as I knew she would, and she’d only spent ten days revising the whole two-year syllabus. So I got the grades to get me into drama school.”

  “You cheated?”

  “Not in my skills as an actor but in putting pen to paper, yes. However, if it’s any consolation, I did all the revision alongside Alicia and I could recite every single line of text as well as she could in the comfort of our bedroom. I am ashamed of what I did and the guilt has gnawed away at me ever since. It’s there every time I go for an audition, every time I start to learn a new piece, every time I rehearse a difficult role, and it’s affected my confidence tremendously.

  “It came out a year after I’d left college when I was interviewed after an am-dram production of The Sound of Music. A weasel of a reporter splashed his discovery all over the local news. I had to get away so Grace and I went travelling. When I came home, I knew that I had to put in for my exams again. I studied and studied, night after night. It was killing me that I was living as a fraud and I was determined to put things right as far as I could. I took up yoga and even tried hypnosis to help me with my exam nerves, but the thing that saved me was a course of acupuncture. And I did it, passed with flying colours – all by myself.”