by Mona Marple
With nothing but time, she pulled out her small notebook from her handbag and wrote ANTON and DERRICK in large letters, then drew a line connecting them. The connection seemed obvious; they were both squatters.
The word made her wince. If only she had thought things through more, she would have realised that Derrick would return home as soon as he had some wages to take. She could have paid him daily and then he would have left the village after work each night - she might have even driven him. He wouldn’t have been hanging around the village square to be run over, and he wouldn’t have been a squatter anymore to be at risk.
The prime suspect was Ignatius Potter, so Sandy wrote his name on her sheet with a question mark. DC Sullivan had taken no one else in for questioning since he returned to the village.
And yet, he had an alibi. Dorie Slaughter had been with him until moments before he discovered Anton’s body.
Sandy rubbed her temples and scribbled on the page, IS DORIE’S ALIBI RELIABLE?
Writing the words made her feel guilty, but Dorie was getting older. Could she have muddled the days or times in her mind? Had the police taken her statement and decided it was unreliable?
Whoever was targeting the squatters must have a reason - a motive. Sandy scrawled the word MOTIVE on the piece of paper.
Seeing her thoughts spread out helped her mind whir with ideas.
Why would someone want to kill squatters?
She remembered Gus Sanders’ threat. His promise to kill all of the squatters. She wrote his name on the paper.
Seeing the names of two people she knew, even if not well, on her pad as suspects, made her shiver, and she put the book back in her handbag.
Clearly, she would have to investigate further.
**
After sitting by Derrick’s hospital bed for hours, Cass convinced Olivia that they needed to return home for some sleep. The doctors gave little information, appearing at regular intervals to make checks and speak in vague terms.
He’s sustained very serious injuries. He’s stable. The next few hours are crucial.
Sandy sat in the back seat of Cass’ car as they drove back in an exhausted silence. The sun was rising.
“Are you coming in?” Cass asked as they all climbed out of the car outside her little house. “I don’t think I’ll sleep.”
“Yeah, sure.” Sandy said, following her friend up the garden path.
The house was cold and all three of them pulled their clothes around them tighter as they walked in.
“Go on up to bed.” Cass instructed Olivia as she turned the thermostat up. The radiators groaned and hiss as they woke up. “Have as long as you need, I won’t wake you.”
Olivia walked upstairs without responding or saying goodnight. She seemed in a daze.
“How is she?” Sandy asked. She had walked straight through to the kitchen and filled the kettle with water to make strong coffees for them both.
Cass shrugged and cried. “He looks so fragile. It’s awful seeing someone so young and healthy lying there like that.”
Sandy nodded as she carried two steaming cups of coffee into the living room, where Cass was sitting on the settee under a blanket. Sandy sat next to her, close enough that their legs touched, and pulled some of the blanket over herself. “I can’t believe this has happened.”
“What are the police even doing? Do they have any suspects?” Cass asked, drinking her coffee without even seeming to notice it was scalding hot.
“They’re focused on Ignatius Potter.”
“So it was him?” Cass asked.
“No.” Sandy said, the thought only just hitting her. “He couldn’t have hurt Derrick. His car was seized after Anton’s death.”
“Great.” Cass said. “So there’s a killer on the loose and the police have no idea who it is.”
“I’m sure they’re working on it.” Sandy said. “I haven’t heard much about the investigation this time.”
Their conversation was interrupted by a soft sobbing coming from upstairs. Sandy and Cass looked at each other.
“Shall we go up?” Sandy asked.
“No.” Cass said. “She doesn’t like people seeing her upset. She’ll come down if she wants to.”
“As if she hasn’t been through enough already.” Sandy muttered.
Cass let out a huge yawn.
“Come on, why don’t we get some sleep.” Sandy said, leaning her body to the left and pulling Cass across with her so they were curled into each other across the settee. They’d slept the same way many times over the years, to comfort each other about relationships ending and bad days at work. They’d spent weeks sleeping the same way when Sandy’s mother had died, with Coral piled into the jumble of bodies with them.
Within seconds, Cass’ breath slowed and she fell into a deep sleep. Cass’ sleep was always deep. Sandy closed her eyes but sleep evaded her. Instead, she pictured Derrick, running to her aid as she tried to calm Gus Sanders down.
Was it Derrick’s involvement that day that made Gus target him?
And why had Ignatius Potter discovered both bodies? Could a man really be so unlucky?
11
It was a strange day in the cafe without Derrick helping.
Even though he had only been working for Sandy for a few days, he was so grateful for the opportunity and eager to prove himself that he did much more work than anyone expected him to - and with a bigger smile than anyone washing dishes might have been expected to have.
“Oh, love.” Bernice said as Sandy walked into the cafe soon after opening time. Bernice scooped her into a hug.
“It’s so awful.”Sandy nodded. “I was there overnight.”
“Have you slept at all? You look exhausted.” Bernice asked, pulling back from the hug and holding Sandy by her elbows as she looked deep into her eyes.
“I’ve had a couple of hours. I might not be much use today.” She admitted.
“That’s fine. I couldn’t sleep so I came in extra early. The baking’s all done. You take it easy.” Bernice said.
“Thank you so much.” Sandy said, feeling tearful. She didn’t know what she had done to deserve such loyal employees, and friends.
The cafe was already full and bustling with the sharing of gossip from table to table.
“My Jim will solve the case.” Dorie Slaughter said, taking centre court from a table right in the middle of the cafe. “He interviewed the prime suspect.”
“I thought you gave that prime suspect an alibi?” Sandy asked.
“Well, yes, but he was the prime suspect from the information my Jim had.” Dorie said. Sandy rolled her eyes. She worried that Dorie’s adoration for her son clouded most other things, including catching the real killer if it meant suggesting that her son had been wrong.
“You went and made a statement, didn’t you Dorie?” Sandy pressed as she pulled her apron on. She would remain downstairs for the day, where she could listen to what people were saying and begin her own investigations.
Dorie gave a loud sigh. “I’m not incapable, you know. You young folk always assume nobody else knows like you do.”
Sandy felt her cheeks flush and was about to apologise when Dorie stood up and pulled her coat and Russian hat on.
“Best be off!” Dorie called.
“You didn’t give the statement, did you?”
“Well… I was going to, but I got distracted.”
Sandy tutted. “Well don’t get distracted again Dorie, go on. Come back after and I’ll make you a fresh tea.”
Dorie gave a thumbs up in agreement and raced off out of the cafe.
“She’s mad.” Coral said, emerging at the back of the cafe from the staircase with a plate and cup in her hands. “Did you know people are taking drinks up there? And food!”
“No…” Sandy said. “I didn’t know.”
“We’ll put a sign up.” Bernice said, always quick to find a solution to a problem.
“Thanks, Bernice.” Sandy said.
&nbs
p; “How’s Derrick?” Coral asked, on her way to drop the dirty dishes into the overflowing sink. “You can tell he’s not here.”
“They say he’s stable.” Sandy said, speaking so that the customers would hear. She studied each person, in turn, to see if anyone looked disappointed with that news, but most were too busy sharing their own theories to react to her words at all.
“That’s good.”
“Hopefully. He’s a young fit lad, maybe he can pull through.”
The doorbell rang and Tom Nelson appeared, his face harried with concern. Sandy still hadn’t heard from him since the night before and was disappointed that he hadn’t texted to check she was ok.
“Sandy! Thank goodness!” He exclaimed, and she noticed that he was still in the same clothes from the night before. She had at least had a shower and borrowed some clothes at Cass’ house. “I’ve been worried sick.”
“Worried?” She asked as she noticed the customers watching the interaction. “Come through here.”
Sandy led Tom through the cafe tables and up the staircase to the first floor, where a few people were too busy with their noses in books to pay any attention to her.
“What happened to you? I waited in the station after giving my statement but you must have already gone. You didn’t even text me.” Sandy said, trying her best not to sound like a possessive girlfriend to a man she wasn’t even dating.
“Sandy…” He began. “I don’t even have your number.”
The ridiculousness of her upset caused her to let out a high-pitched laugh. A stranger who was browsing the theology section turned and scowled at her.
“Of course you don’t. I’m sorry, I just thought you’d wait for me.”
“I did wait for you, Sandy. I was there half the night wondering what on earth they were doing to you. Then DC Sullivan popped his head out and asked what I was loitering around for! Said you’d gone hours earlier. So I went to your house to see if you were ok, and there was no answer.”
“Oh!” Sandy said, realising what a mix up it had been. “I went to see Cass. I told Olivia what had happened.”
“Who’s Olivia?”“Her sister. She’s Derrick’s girlfriend.”
“Oh wow. How did that go?”
“Rough… as you’d imagine. We went to the hospital and stayed there most of the night, then I stayed there until I came into work.” Sandy said. “You haven’t been looking for me all night, have you?”
“No.” Tom said in a whisper, then leaned towards her. “I went to check on Poppy and, guess what, Gus didn’t make it home last night.”
“You’re kidding?”
“No. I stayed up with Poppy all night, trying to get to the bottom of things. We must have rung his phone a hundred times, no answer.”
A chill ran down Sandy’s back. She turned and looked out of the window across the village square, towards the butcher’s, and couldn’t believe her eyes.
“Oh, my.” She exclaimed, covering her hand with her mouth. A group of at least 50 people, all in various states of disarray, many carrying sleeping bags on their backs and carrier bags in their hands, were trudging across the square.
“They’re on the move.” Tom said, standing so close behind Sandy she could feel his presence. “Can’t say I blame them.”
“I need to do something.” Sandy said, pushing past Tom and racing downstairs. “Bernice! Box up as much hot food as we’ve got ready!”
All of the cafe customers were gawping out of the windows at the sight of 50 homeless men, women and children crossing the village square.
“Wait!” Sandy called to them, opening the cafe door. The man who was leading the group turned and looked at her in disgust.
“Wait why?”
“I want to help you. Please just wait a few minutes, I can make hot bacon sandwiches for you all.”
“We don’t want your help.” A younger man sneered, and Sandy recognised him as being the graffiti artist who Gus had attacked.
“But where are you going?”
“Somewhere safe.” A woman called, falling out of line to address Sandy. A young boy clung to her legs.
“Please let me help.” Sandy said. “Your son, let me give him some food.”
The boy was practically climbing up the woman’s body. His body was painfully thin.
“Get me to cross over so you can run me over, is that it?” The woman asked although she was moving closer as the rest of the group continued to walk on.
“I only want to help. I promise.” Sandy said.
“Come on, here’s a bacon sandwich for you each.” Tom said, appearing behind her. He had a brown bag in each hand and strode out across the street towards the woman and her child. “Spread the word, we’ve got plenty more.”
The boy snatched a brown bag from Tom and then returned to hiding as close as he could to his mother, who held out her own hand more warily.
“Do you have somewhere to go?” Sandy asked.
The woman shrugged and followed the rest of the group. “We’ll find somewhere.”
**
“Wow.” Sandy said as she stood on the doorstep with Tom a few moments later. “I never imagined there would be children up there. I know that sounds silly… if a man and woman become homeless there’s every chance they’ll have a child.”
“You’re a good person, Sandy.” Tom said. “Everyone else has watched those people go by and let them.”
“I gave out two bacon sandwiches.” Sandy said. “I’ve hardly saved the world.”
“But you’ve tried, at least.” Tom said with a smile. “In fact, you’ve inspired me. I’m going to go up to the Manor, see if anyone’s still there. Take a few sandwiches, that kind of thing.”
“I’ll come with you.” Sandy said, then regretted her forwardness. “If that’s OK, I mean.”
“Of course.” Tom said with a grin.
They each spent ten minutes gathering food and met outside The Tweed, where they loaded Tom’s boot and drove across the square towards the Manor. As they pulled onto the gravel in front of the building, Sandy noticed movement from the side of the building. “There’s someone over there!”
“Hello!” Tom called, as he climbed out of the car. Sandy copied and ran around to his side, standing close to him. “Hello?”
A small shape appeared, their feet crunching through the gravel as they walked. “Is that -” Sandy began.
“Sandy? Tom Nelson?” The woman asked, moving closer to them.
“Pritti?” Sandy asked. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m doing my job now those people have gone!” Pritti said, then turned on her heels and returned down the side of the building. Sandy and Tom looked at each other and shrugged, then followed Pritti.
The Manor was incredible from afar, sitting on an elevated bluff over the village, but it was only up close that it was possible to realise just how large it was. Standing so close to its walls made Sandy feel tiny. Pritti was working up ahead, a bin liner in one hand and a grabbing claw in the other. The gravel and grass were littered with beer cans and food packaging. Sandy watched as Pritti attempted to grab a used nappy with the claw.
“Did the squatters make this mess?” Sandy asked.
Pritti turned to look at her as she got the nappy in the bin liner. “Of course they did. They have no respect. That’s why they had to go.”
“How did you get them to leave?” Tom asked, looking at the woman’s tiny frame.
“I didn’t, they decided it was time to move on.”
“Someone’s killing them one by one, that’s why they’re moving on.” Tom said, but Pritti had returned to her litter picking. Sandy glanced at Tom.
“We should go.”
Tom shrugged. “If we loop through the village we might find the squatters. Maybe we could still hand out the food.”
“Is the Manor empty now?” Sandy called. “Have they all gone?”
“Every last one.” Pritti said as she picked up an empty carrier bag.“Okay…
well, we’ll leave you to it.” Sandy said. Pritti didn’t appear to hear. “Bye!”
“Bye, Mrs. Sharma.” Tom said. Pritti held up a hand half-heartedly in farewell, as she surveyed the work left to be done.
“Can you imagine being that committed to your work?” Tom asked as they got back in the car. “Her bosses aren’t even in the country and she’s out in the cold picking up dirty nappies.”
“I guess nobody else will do it.” Sandy said. “Anyway, tell me more about Gus. Where do you think he was?”
Tom sighed. “He stays out late, Sandy. A lot. But he always comes home at some point. Poppy was beside herself.”
“I bet she was.” Sandy said. Poppy was such a kind, gentle soul. She didn’t deserve to be put through worry like that.
The car reached the end of the Manor’s driveway, and Tom turned left past the church. Sandy kept her gaze focused on her side of the road and tried to look into the butchers. It was in darkness.
“I went there before I came to your cafe.” Tom explained. “He should be open today but it’s all in darkness. I thought I’ll give him until 9am, then 10am, then lunch… he is my brother in law, after all. But I need to go to the police at some point.”
“And tell them about the argument?”
“The fight. Yes.” Tom corrected.
“Does Poppy know you’re going to do that?”
“She will do. I didn’t tell her, but she’s a bright girl, and she knows what the right thing to do is. He threatened to kill squatters and then a squatter was run over and he’s done a runner. It seems straightforward.”
“Hmm.” Sandy murmured.
“What?”
“I always think things that seem that straightforward probably aren’t, but maybe I’m being naive. I mean, the police arrested Ignatius Potter and said it seemed like an open and shut case.”
“And then he discovered the second body. Poor guy.” Tom said.
“I keep thinking, I wonder if there’s a reason that he has discovered both bodies?”
“Well, it’s because he’s guilty or he’s really unlucky.”