Murder and Manuscripts

by Stacey Alabaster

  I glanced at the time. What sort of monster started construction at five in the morning? I knew what sort. I even knew the name of the monster. I had almost kissed him once. Troy Emerald. Close call. Dodged a massive bullet there.

  I got out of bed and pulled on a t-shirt and shorts, wondering if I should go for an early morning surf right as the sun rose. Might be relaxing. I say might. I didn’t know much about council bylaws, but I was pretty sure that there were rules against making that much noise this early in the morning. I stomped my foot and had to stop myself from having a full-blown tantrum right then as I stared out the window at the crane that was obscuring the view of the beach. I had no idea how to stop them. I wasn’t smart enough to know how to beat them.

  Claire was smart, though. Well, she always claimed she was anyway. She was the one with the big uni degree and the fancy job as a movie producer in the city. So she might be able to figure a way to stop this from happening. She was my best shot. If Troy was breaking any laws or cutting any corners, she would be the one to know.

  But it might involve a bit of tit for tat.

  I arrived at her apartment all smiles and sunshine, just after breakfast. We were opposites in a lot of ways, but one thing we did have in common was the fact that we were both early risers. I got up early to surf, while she got up early to jog and listen to podcasts.

  Princess had, apparently, been told that she was not allowed anywhere near her bookshop for the time being and she was at a bit of a loose end with what to do with herself. Still, killing time in a luxury apartment wasn’t too bad. I mean, I would have gone out of my mind with boredom after a few hours, but Claire liked to put her feet up and relax while other people did the work.

  I grinned as I got my surprise out of my bag and placed it down next to the new espresso machine she had for some reason. Bit strange, considering that she didn’t even own a fridge yet. No place to store milk and vegetables, but she had a two-thousand-dollar coffee machine?

  Claire just glanced down at the magnifying glass as though I had placed a bug down on her countertop. “What is that?”

  “It’s me. Ready to play detective,” I said with a grin. I’d gotten the magnifying glass from the local toy store. The one that was about to be put out of business by the Evil Mall. But I digress.

  She rolled her eyes, turned her back, and started to grind the coffee beans loudly. I wasn’t sure why she had set it to the finest grind, but quite possibly so it would make the most noise. Classic Claire. She left the grinder to run for just a little bit longer than it needed to before she flipped the switch off as hard as possible, then started stacking the ground beans into the machine and set it to ‘short black’. I suppose espresso was just going to have to be okay with me then. Thanks very much for asking. I would have much preferred a latte.

  “It’s not play,” she said, glaring at the magnifying glass out of the corner of her eye. “It is something quite serious. But of course, I don’t except you to understand that.” Her accent had shifted again during the week. Since she’d been back in Eden Bay, she’d gradually lost her posh city accent and regained her broad country one. But now she was speaking like she was queen of the manor again.

  “Well, actually, people die in the surf all the time,” I said, sipping on the espresso and trying not to make a face so it looked like I was enjoying it. “So I do understand.” If she was going to play that game, then I was going to win. There had been far more deaths on the sand than in bookshops. Checkmate.

  Oh gosh, this coffee was an attack on my taste buds. At least I could down it in a few sips so that the torture wasn’t prolonged. “Mmm, delicious,” I said with an exaggerated sigh of contentment when I was done.

  She reached over towards the empty glass and grabbed it from me, then opened up her fancy ‘smart’ dishwasher and put it in there before giving it a voice command to scrub harshly. She turned back to me. “What do you really want, Alyson?”

  Right. It was showtime.

  I cocked my head to the side, just a little bit, and put on my most sorry and sympathetic face. The one that showed I was really, really genuine. “I’m feeling terrible about what happened, okay? You were right. I should have been more careful and responsible. I should have locked up. Double checked. Triple checked. How is your tooth, by the way?”

  She grimaced for a moment and made a face as I watched her run her tongue over her teeth. She hated to admit that she even needed the filling. But she’d been eating too much sugar recently and now she had paid the price.

  I knew the drill—so to speak—only too well. My dentist had told me I was going to have to cut back on the sweet things or I was going to have another four cavities by the end of the year. But that was going to mean less milkshakes at Captain Eightball’s, and I wasn’t sure I could do it.

  And I knew Claire couldn’t do it either. But she hadn’t been into Captain Eightball’s at all recently and I knew that was the reason why. She just wouldn’t admit it.

  “It’s fine,” she said simply. “Aside from that one little teeny tiny hole, my mouth is perfectly wonderful.”

  Of course she would say that. Everything always had to be perfectly wonderful in the world of Claire Elizabeth Richardson. At least on the surface. She would not admit that she had been eating far too much sugar recently and was getting herself in trouble, but what she didn’t know was that we shared the same dentist and she had very loose lips. I knew that just like me, Claire had been warned to cut back on the sweet stuff.

  “Great to hear,” I said with a wide smile. “You do have the most beautiful smile.”

  She just gave me a weary stare. I may have been laying it on a touch thick. Luckily, she lived for compliments.

  I still didn’t think, in my heart of hearts, that I was in any way responsible for what had happened in the bookshop. Sure. I’d forgotten to lock the door. Maybe—MAYBE—I could be liable if say, a book got stolen. Which none had, by the way. Who wants to steal a book? That would be crazy. I wouldn’t even take one if it was handed to me for free. If you were paying me to take it.

  But I could not be responsible for a murder. No way. That was not on me.

  Also, I still didn’t think there was anything wrong with leaving your door unlocked. What was Eden Bay coming to if we couldn’t even trust each other?

  But I was willing to pretend that I was in the wrong if that would make Claire happy. That was one of the things with our friendship, the constant pull-push. Both of us always wanted to be right and couldn’t stand being wrong. And because we so often had completely opposite opinions of things, we ran into trouble. Butted heads. Constantly.

  So sometimes you just had to pretend. To keep the peace.

  “I should never have left the door unlocked. It was grossly irresponsible of me. I want to help now, Claire. I want to set things right.”

  She peered down at me like she was trying to figure out whether to believe me or not. “Well, a magnifying glass is not going to do much good, is it?”

  I shrugged. It might not be completely useless. “Well, maybe I could look for fingerprints in the shop,” I suggested.

  “The police have already done that. There were none.”

  None? That was a little strange. “And do you actually trust Sergeant Wells?” I asked her. I mean, I know, what was our town coming to if we couldn’t trust each other? But the police were a different matter.

  “No,” she had to admit.

  She leaned forward and picked up the object, studying it with a newfound curiosity. “Actually, Alyson, that magnifying glass might not be such a bad idea. If you are willing to actually make yourself useful for a change, I have an idea.”

  8

  Claire

  Maybe it was a dumb idea. I shook my head. Somehow, being around Alyson always clouded my judgement. But, hey, we had nothing to lose by trying to find some more evidence.

  Just as we arrived back at Nicole Marie’s house, I received a text that seemed a little serendipitous
. It was Simon, telling me that his awards ceremony was finishing up and that he was thinking about heading back to Eden Bay that evening if I wanted to catch up.

  I smiled to myself but quickly put the phone back into my pocket without replying. It was flattering. Nice, for sure. But I would have to leave him on the hook for a little while before I replied.

  Back to reality. I could hear Alyson beside me, grunting a little as she pulled an item from a plastic bag and I groaned inwardly, remembering what we had just bought. Maybe this really, really was a totally dumb idea.

  “I feel like we are just playing at this,” I said, shaking my head in frustration while Alyson struggled with the packaging beside me. I didn’t normally play with kid’s toys. I resented the fact that I had even been dragged down to the toy store to find the thing. Meanwhile, Alyson had had the time of her life frolicking around in there.

  “Isn’t that what we have always been doing?” Alyson asked. She shot me an amused look.

  Well, we’d never been given the official titles of detective, but that seemed a little harsh.

  “I mean, this is literally a kid’s detective kit,” I said, turning the box over when I took it from her. The age was for six to ten. That was the age of Alyson’s niece. I handed it back. On her head be it.

  I was sure the police had already been to the house, just as they had already been to the bookshop. But there had been no prints at the shop. So we needed to check the house. And I didn’t know how to get my hands on any of the ‘real’ equipment. So this kid’s box set was just going to have to do.

  When my phone buzzed again, I thought it might be Simon, and so I pulled the phone out of my pocket, thinking, well, if he’s this persistent than maybe I should give him a break and say yes. But it wasn’t Simon. It was a call coming from a number that I didn’t recognize.

  “Hello?”

  “What are we supposed to do with all this stuff?” a gruff voice on the other end of the line asked me.

  “Huh?”

  It was the delivery driver in charge of dropping of that week’s order of new books, and there was no one at the shop to even open the door, let alone sign for it. I hit my forehead with the palm of my hand and groaned. He was threatening to just leave the books in front of the shop—“This ain’t my problem. lady”—but that was not going to work. They were brand new hardbacks from the top ten bestsellers list. People would steal them. I know Alyson thinks that no one would ever steal a book, but that’s just because she doesn’t read.

  Also it was starting to mist again, and the forecast said that heavy rain was expected any time in the next hour. There was minimal coverage in front of the shop.

  And now he was yelling at me demanding payment as well. I had to go.

  “There’s a book emergency I need to take care of,” I said to Alyson, who shot me a look like she couldn’t believe there could be any such thing. “Sorry, we’ll have to come back and do this some other time.”

  I’d assumed that would be the end of it. Time to put the kit back in the shopping bag and rethink the whole scheme. But Alyson just ripped the plastic wrapping off the detective kit and shook her head as she trained her eyes firmly on the house. “Trust me,” she said. “I’ve got this under control. You’re not even needed here, Princess.”

  Well, she had admitted she was wrong about leaving my door unlocked, so maybe she was finally willing to grow up and admit to her mistakes. And she wasn’t going to do the same wrong thing twice. “Okay then,” I said, and left out the back door, hurrying down the driveway before anyone could see me.

  “The shop isn’t open,” I explained, hoping that we could come to some sort of agreement. Like, maybe he could take the books back to the warehouse for a few days until I was open again. “I’m not even allowed to open up the door. Trust me, I am not happy about this situation either. It’s the cops, not me.”

  The driver was a large—very large, like 6’6”—man who was not having a bar of what I was saying. He had his clipboard, his pen, and his machine to accept payment on delivery and those were the only things he cared about.

  “Well, where are we supposed to put all these then? They ain’t going back in the truck,” he said with zero sympathy. He was more than happy to just dump all the books on the street. Once I’d paid of course. If I didn’t pay, I was going to be fined interest. “Should have told us earlier.”

  “I didn’t exactly have time to cancel the order. I had other things to worry about.” I wasn’t even supposed to step inside the shop. Oh, but what was Sergeant Wells going to do about it anyway? Arrest me for entering my own shop?

  Probably.

  I sighed and checked that no one was around before I quickly unlocked the front door and told him to hurry.

  He rolled his eyes at me even once the door was open. Looked like I couldn’t win with him. “Should have been done with this delivery half an hour ago,” he said as he dumped the boxes near the door and handed me the portable machine for me to enter my card details.

  “Next time, be here,” he said before he climbed up into the front seat of the truck and slammed the door. I coughed as the exhaust smoke hit my face.

  I checked the time. Good. I hadn’t left Alyson unsupervised for that long. If I could just lock up quickly, I could be done in five and be back over at Nicole Marie’s house before she could do any real damage.

  I quickly looked over all the stock—since I had gotten the delivery, it better at least contain all the books I ordered—hoping that no one was watching. And I hoped that if the police came back, they wouldn’t notice five boxes of books that hadn’t been there the day before.

  Oh gosh. My cell phone showed an incoming call from Maria. She must have been walking past and seen me. I was going to have to quickly explain myself and ask her not to tell anyone, least of all the cops.

  But she was ringing to tell me something far more serious.

  “There’s a fire down on McCall Avenue…and it’s Nicole Marie’s.”

  9

  Claire

  I had no words.

  Literally, none. I didn’t even want to speak to Alyson. There was no way she could possibly spin this situation.

  I was in a daze as I made my way into the center of town. Maybe after all this time, I was being given a sign. Maybe it was truly time to cut off my friendship with Alyson Foulkes.

  I looked up and realized I was at Captain Eightball’s. It hadn’t been on purpose, but it seemed like the right place to be.

  It was the first time I had seen Matt in weeks. Somehow all the drama had made the kiss seem like less of a big deal, and it seemed natural to pay him a visit. Maybe he wouldn’t even remember it. Maybe I could just act cool and natural as though nothing had happened.

  Matt had already heard about the fire. Everyone had. He was behind the bar, pouring drinks when I walked in. He seemed concerned but not entirely sure that it was Alyson’s fault.

  “I’m sure that Alyson will have a perfectly reasonable explanation for this…”

  “For burning a house down?” I was going to need something a little stronger than a milkshake for this. I ordered a cheap whiskey and Matt raised his eyebrows as he poured it into the short glass.

  “Ugh, speaking of burning,” I said, and winced as the cheap spirit hit the back of my throat. I blinked a few times and felt my eyes water.

  “Looks like you can handle it all right.” Matt winked at me.

  I grinned. It was good to be talking to him again. I’d missed him. Maybe it was the whiskey talking, but I had just opened up my mouth to tell him just that when the door opened in walked a long, leggy brunette with hair cascading down to her backside. She was tanned the same way that Alyson was, the way you only can be if you spend your life out in the sun.

  “Hey, you!” she said and ran up to give Matt a peck on the cheek.

  I was a little stunned. Inside I was thinking, who the heck is this? But I sat there, cool, trying to pretend that I hadn’t seen anything. U
nfazed. Unmoved. While on the inside I was burning up like a volcano. The feeling started bubbling in my stomach, then moved its way up to my chest, where it burned. I could feel the sides of my face start to heat up, and I wasn’t sure what was going to happen next. Oh god, I wasn’t going to cry, was I? I was not a crier. Claire Elizabeth Richardson did not cry.

  She had her very long arms wrapped around his neck, and even with bare feet, she was almost his height. She must have been almost a foot taller than I was. I was glad I was up on the bar, perched high.

  “This is Kate,” Matt said, turning to me. He seemed embarrassed.

  “I’m Claire,” I said when he failed to introduce me by name in return. I somehow found myself with my arm outstretched and I was shaking her hand. Her hands were soft and delicate. Of course they were. I pulled my own back.

  “I’m an old, um…” She paused and giggled as she looked at Matt for guidance of what she should say next. He just shrugged unhelpfully. “Friend of Matt’s.”

  But the way she said ‘friend’ implied a whole lot more. Add to that the fact that Matt was blushing, and I knew what that really meant. She giggled again.

  Right. An ex.

  And what was I?

  I pushed my empty glass aside. “I need to go. I…uh…need to go for a surf.”

  I’d been intending to wait till the dust had settled—or the ash, as it were—before I saw Alyson again, but the beach was where I ended up later that afternoon. I wasn’t even sure I would actually see Alyson there that day, but down by the shore, I could see surfboards and painting equipment set up. If it wasn’t her, it was someone doing a very good impression.

  I couldn’t believe they had let her out of the police station. Apparently, she was claiming she had nothing to do with it and they had actually bought her story. But I knew Alyson. She had everything to do with it.