by Mona Marple
“It was you, really, that comment about it being the perfect crime. And I thought, who could commit the perfect crime? How about someone whos obsessed with reading about them? She can’t go a day without a mystery novel, she must know every trick out there for hiding evidence and things. Did she tell you how she did it?”
DC Sullivan nodded. “It’s genius, really. She hit him with a frozen salmon. That wouldn’t have killed him, I don’t think, but it would have blooming hurt, knocked him down, and he hit his head on the pavement, that’s what finished it.”
“A frozen salmon?” Sandy asked, her eyes wide. “You are kidding?”
“It gets better. She took it home, defrosted it, the cats ate it. No weapon to find, that’s why we couldn’t find it.”
“Wow,” Sandy said. “All this because he didn’t like her cats?”
“He’d threatened to call the RSPCA and get them removed. She was terrified. I don’t think she meant to kill him, if I’m honest. She saw him on her way out of the butcher’s, with the fish, and decided to have a chat with him. He wouldn’t back down and she just saw red, hit him and panicked.”
“So there really weren’t any witnesses?” Sandy asked.
DC Sullivan shrugged. “People see things all the time, things they wish they hadn’t seen, things they convince themselves they didn’t really see. And other times, nobody sees anything at all. Who knows what the truth is here.”
Sandy exhaled again. “I’m glad it’s over.”
“We’ll need a statement from you but that can wait until tomorrow.” DC Sullivan said.
“Thank you,” Sandy said. “Thank you for listening to me, trusting me.”
DC Sullivan smiled and shook his head. “Good job she started talking when she did or Gus Sanders would have had a shock in the morning!”
“Oh, crikey, I didn’t think about that,” Sandy admitted.
“Good night, Sandy.” DC Sullivan said.
“Good night, DC Sullivan.”
**
Sandy left the police station and instead of turning left back towards Books and Bakes and her car, she crossed the road and walked along Water Lane, taking the next left onto Manor Way. She walked past Cherry’s cottage, which was in darkness, and knocked on the vicar’s door.
He appeared before her after a few seconds, his easy smile telling her he hadn’t heard the news.
“Can I come in?” She asked.
He lead her back into the living room, which was in a similar state of disarray to the last time she had been in there.
“Sit down, Rob.” She said. Concern washed over his face and he took a seat.
“They’ve found the person who killed Dick Jacobs. It was Cherry.” Sandy said.
“Ahh.” Rob groaned, covering his face with his hands. “Thank you for telling me, Sandy.”
Sandy decided not to comment on the lack of surprise in his voice. He was such a calm man, it was impossible to interpret his emotions. “I wondered if you’ve got a spare key? The cats will need feeding.”
“Oh, oh, yes. Good thinking. I do, actually.” He said. He stood up and left the room, returning a moment later with a single key on a keyring. “I’ve never used it before. It feels wrong somehow, to enter a lady’s home.”
“I can do it?” Sandy offered.
Rob nodded. “Yes. Yes, please. That seems better. Thank you.”
Sandy nodded and took the key from his hand, then let herself out of his house and into Cherry’s.
She walked past the locked front room door, ignoring the sense of sadness and the unfulfilled possibility that was stored within there, and made tutting noises to attract the cats.
She turned the light on in the hallway, and then the one in the small kitchen. Cats surrounded her. Siamese, tabbies, tortoiseshell, and an enormous black ball of fluff who seemed to eye her with particular understanding.
“Well, guys.” She said, ignoring her self-consciousness to treat them the way she thought Cherry would want. It hit her then how foolish Cherry’s actions had been. They would cause exactly what she had been trying to avoid happening. “What do you eat when there’s no salmon?”
She looked through the cupboards and found an onion, two tins of baked beans and a packet of bourbon biscuits past their use-by date.
“This won’t do, will it.” She said.
She pulled her phone from her pocket, went to her contacts list and dialled.
“Gus? It’s Sandy.” She said.
He knocked on the door within ten minutes and held out a carrier bag to her. “I figured someone would ring me tonight.”
“You’re a star. I know things will change for them soon enough, might as well have one last feast.”
“You’re a good woman, Sandy,” Gus said, unaware that she had been using him as bait earlier that day.
She smiled and closed the door, returning to the cats who swarmed around her feet as they recognised the smell of salmon.
She didn’t have the time or skill to defrost and bone a whole salmon, so Gus had prepared one for her and brought over ready to eat fillets.
She placed it on the countertop in the kitchen and sliced the pieces into small chunks, then spread them out amongst the various bowls in the kitchen and back living room. To her surprise, each cat waited by a particular bowl and none attempted to eat until she had finished spreading the food out among all of the bowls.
The large black cat gazed at her.
“OK, you can eat.” She said with a laugh. The black cat bent its head and ate.
She shook her head as she pulled her phone out again and made a second call. The black cat watched her. She mouthed ‘sorry’ to him.
The RSPCA arrived quickly, their knock at the door made Sandy jump.
“We had a tip-off, thought we’d be needed. I was already on the way when your call came in.” The short man with huge holes in his earlobes said as he walked in with a cat carrier in each hand. “How many have we got?”
“Erm, I don’t know,” Sandy admitted. It hadn’t occurred to her to count them.
“All right, let’s see.” The man said. He was a jovial guy, in good spirits to be working so late. Sandy left him to his work, being unfamiliar with cats she could offer little help. Most of the felines walked into a crate when one was placed near them, and Sandy marveled at how well Cherry had trained them.
“It’s never normally this easy.” The man said as he made another trip out to the van with a crate in each hand. Sandy held the door open for him. “They’ll find new homes quick, don’t worry.”
“Oh, I wasn’t,” Sandy said. “They’re not mine.”
The man shrugged, uninterested in the details. He’d realise when he watched the news.
He made quick work of the job, and the cats left the house in silence, only one or two let out a single, restrained meow as they left the house for the last time. Sandy wondered if they’d put up more of a fight over the new cat-food diet they might start the next day. only glancing at him as he carried out pair after pair after pair of cat carriers.
“I think that’s it.” He said after a final look around the upstairs. He nodded towards the front room. “You’re sure there’s none in there?”
“No,” Sandy said. “There’s nobody in there.”
“Righteo then. That brings it to twenty-two.” He said.
“Wow,” Sandy said. “That must be a record?”
The man descended into a deep, belly laugh as he walked down the path towards his van. “Not even close! Not even close!”
Sandy laughed, his happiness infectious. “Well, thank you!”
She closed the door after him and went back into the kitchen, where she washed the cutting board and the knife and tidied them away.
She picked up the single key that hung up on the kitchen rack, and padded down the passage to the front room, which she unlocked and opened with a deep breath. She flicked the light on and stood in the doorway, looking at the perfectly laid table, then moved closer and
picked up a knife. The weight of it surprised her. No expense had been spared preparing for the dinner parties that never came.
“What a waste.” She whispered, returning the knife to its place. She noticed a slight coat of dust on the plates, fresh dust molecules dropped from the air, and realised that Cherry must have dusted them each day. “What an absolute waste.”
With a sigh, she turned off the light and saw herself out of the front room, locking it behind her. She hung the key back up, turned off the kitchen light, then stiffened at a noise.
“Meow.” It came again.
She turned to see the large black cat, who had watched her call the RSPCA with such understanding, creep out of the back room.
“Where were you hiding?” She asked, before quickly opening the front door. The man had gone, already on his way to transport the cats to the rescue centre. “Oh no. Well, don’t think you’re coming home with me. Don’t look at me like that!”
**
A few minutes later, she posted the key to Cherry’s cottage back through Rob’s letterbox. His house was in darkness and she didn’t want to disturb him again.
She walked back to her car and opened the passenger door first.
The black cat jumped up onto the passenger seat and curled into a ball.
“One night only, okay?” Sandy said, closing the door and returning back around to the driver’s side.
17
Sandy found an old tin of tuna at the back of her kitchen cupboard and spread it on a small plate for the black cat, who looked at it with disapproval when she set it on the kitchen floor.
“It’s the best you’ll get in this house,” Sandy said, then shook her head at how easily she had become a woman who spoke to animals.
She pulled on her yellow mac, looked back into the kitchen at the cat, who was sitting upright next to the plate of food.
“You can eat.” She said, and the cat began to eat. “I’m not saying that to you every day, you know. Not that you’re staying, anyway so it doesn’t matter.”
She shook her head and let herself out of the house. She had shut all of the doors so the cat could only get in the kitchen, where she had left a bowl of water and an old paint tray that she had lined with toilet paper in the hope it would be used as a litter tray.
She drove to the cafe, which was already open and full of people when she parked up outside. As she was about to get out of the car, her phone buzzed. She glanced down at it.
Morning x
She allowed a goofy grin to take over her face, then looked up. Standing outside The Tweed, just a few metres away, and having just watched her receive and grin at his message, was Tom Nelson. She felt her cheeks flush with colour and waved at him, then dived out of the car and straight into the cafe.
“Sandy! Did you hear the news?” Dorie Slaughter called out before the door had even closed after Sandy.
“Yes, Dorie,” Sandy said. “I know about Cherry Gentry.”
“No! Not that, I mean the news about our new local.” Dorie said.
Sandy looked across at her. Sat next to her was Felix, who looked dashing in a three-piece suit. In front of Dorie, was the still wrapped book of poetry that Felix had bought just days earlier.
“Felix?” Sandy asked. “Are you moving in?”
“He’s renting my cottage,” Dorie explained. “Moving in at the weekend. Things at Elaine’s are going so well, no reason we can’t make it a more long-term arrangement for me and Jim.”
“Oh, fabulous,” Sandy said, noting that Elaine wasn’t present to agree with Dorie’s summary. “Well, Felix, you’ll be made very welcome here. I hope to see your face often for a coffee or a browse around the books.”
“A coffee and a cake.” Coral corrected, ever the saleswoman.
Sandy laughed. “A coffee and a cake, then.”
The door opened then and DC Sullivan walked in, scanned the faces until he met Sandy’s, and walked across to her. “I’m heading back to the city now, these guys can finish up the loose ends. I just wanted to say goodbye… until the next time, I guess.”
“Oh!” Sandy exclaimed. “I’m sure there won’t be a next time. We’ve got to be done with our bad luck, I reckon.”
“We’ll see.” DC Sullivan shrugged, then gave a general wave to the cafe and left.
“He’s growing on me, that man,” Coral said.
“Calm down, he’s married!” Sandy scolded.
Coral shrugged. “I just mean he’s very pleasant.”
“Yeah right,” Sandy said with a laugh.
“What are your plans tonight, then, fancy popcorn and a chick flick with me?”
Sandy tried to hide the horror on her face as she remembered what day it was.
“I’m joking, don’t worry!” Coral laughed. “I’m guessing you’ve got a hot date?”
“Erm… I think I might have?” Sandy said. Tom had messaged her to say he would pick her up at 7 pm. She had a fluttering in her stomach when she thought about the explanation he was going to offer for his odd behaviour. Surely he wouldn’t be insensitive enough to take her out on Valentine’s Day to tell her whatever they’d had between them was over? She couldn’t stand to think about it.
**
She was ready twenty minutes before Tom was due to arrive.
He hadn’t given her any idea on how to dress, so she had spent an hour trying on various combinations of clothes creating a range of casual and formal looks. In the end, she had chosen a glittery silver dress with long sleeves. It came down to her knees and showed just a suggestion of cleavage. It was one of the pieces in her wardrobe that she felt most confident and comfortable in.
Her plan was to hide out in her bedroom and watch Tom arrive. If he was dressed more casual than she was, she had a reserve outfit of dark blue jeans and a cashmere sweater laid out on her bed.
And so, on Valentine’s evening, she found herself sat on her bed in the dark, listening out for the sound of a car approaching, while the black cat sat on the floor watching her. Her make-up was heavier than normal, meaning she had used eyeliner and a little bronzer as well as foundation and mascara. Her hair was loose and straight, and every few minutes she left her bedroom to go to the bathroom and examine it as she was convinced it looked too flat.
It was on one of those trips to the bathroom that she must have missed the car approach, pull up, and stop.
She was attempting to push more body into her hair when a knock came from downstairs.
“Oh, no.” She cursed. She dived into her bedroom and peered out through the window, but the front door was covered by a small ledge, and she couldn’t see anything more than the end of a man’s leg and what looked in the dark to be a smart shoe.
She took a deep breath and descended the stairs, then opened the door and flashed a smile at Tom.
She felt breathless at the sight of him, in a grey suit, with a bunch of lilies clutched in front of him.
He looked stunned at her appearance.
“Sandy… you look incredible.” He said. He held the flowers out to her. “I know everyone gets roses on Valentine’s Day, but that seemed a bit too predictable.”
“I haven’t got you anything.” She admitted. “I was a little nervous you might take me out to tell me were just friends, or something. Ew, I shouldn’t have said that, sorry, forget I said it.”
“Sandy, I don’t want to be just friends,” Tom said. “Trust me.”
She smiled and followed him out of the house. He held open the passenger door for her and closed it once she was sat down, then got in the driver’s side and turned on the engine.
They drove through to the next village in a comfortable silence. Sandy wanted him to lead the conversation when he was ready, even though she was desperate to ask him to explain himself.
They pulled up outside a red brick building, a restaurant that Sandy had heard of but never been to before. A valet took the keys from Tom and he held out his hand, which she took in hers. They walked into the grand build
ing hand in hand, and Sandy tried to remember as much about the feeling, and the experience, as possible.
She knew that Coral and Cass would grill her for details when they arrived to take her breakfast the next morning, an invitation that she knew had been offered so they could hear how the night had gone.
“This is amazing.” She whispered to Tom as the head waiter lead them into a grand dining room. Their table was small, but they were right at the far end of the room, meaning they had privacy from the other diners. Sandy’s foot brushed against Tom’s leg underneath the table and he blushed.
“I’d recommend the duck to begin,” Tom said, then groaned. “Sorry, that sounded like I’m here all the time. I’ve never been before, but I read a review in the newspaper last week and it said the duck to start, the risotto for main and the cheese board for dessert. Right, hopefully, that’s the awkwardness out of the way.”
“Tom, just relax. It’s only me.” Sandy said.
“That’s just it, it’s you. You make me nervous.” Tom admitted.
Sandy felt her cheeks flush. Terror-inducing was hardly a good effect to have on a potential suitor.
“Shall I just try and explain what’s been happening?” He asked.
“I think you should.”
“Ok… well… I may look like a grown man, I may even sound like one occasionally, but I think in reality I’m still a young kid and when I get scared, I bury my head in the sand. I’ve always done it, when I was flunking maths, I didn’t ask for help or anything, just stopped revising, pretended everything was OK and failed the exam. And I’ve never learned the lesson. And that’s what this has been. I know I went a bit cold on you, stopped texting and stuff. And then I saw you, and you were just fine, you were laughing and you seemed happy, so I thought you’d not even noticed. You know?”
“Because I have so many dashing men sending me texts, you mean?” Sandy teased, but Tom didn’t laugh.
“You could do for all I know.” He said. “You’re beautiful, Sandy. You’re absolutely beautiful and you say things that I’m thinking, it’s like there’s so much we’ve got in common. I got scared. I got scared of this.”