by S. Y. Robins
“I see.” Jade said. When his eyes went cold and he started to advance again, she said desperately, “So you came here…”
“To get her to give up the show,” Jack said coldly. Luckily for Jade, however, he was only too happy to ruminate on the night of the murder. “I had a very generous offer. I’d buy the damned watercolors off of her if she’d just agree to go home. And she said—she looked me dead in the eyes—and said that there was no need to think there was any competition. Smug as you please! That she’d been a school teacher all her life and she wanted to show her paintings now, and this was too fine an opportunity to pass up. She didn’t even appreciate it! But as soon as I wanted it, she wouldn’t give it up. She was greedy.” His eyes narrowed. “She deserved everything she got. And I slashed all those damned paintings in there on my way out.” He threw an arm up to point at the house.
For some reason, this made Jade furious. It was like burning books, but a thousand times worse. No one would ever make those paintings again, and Vera’s nephew would not even have them to remember her by.
“So you just killed her?” she demanded. “You only got half a gallery, and you killed her over that? Didn’t she deserve recognition just as much as you?” It was the wrong thing to say. His eyes narrowed. “And you just tried to kill Maddox, too—twice! That’s why you were so curious as to who I was talking to on the street that day. That’s why you wanted me to tell you if he came back. You were trying to finish the job.”
“He might tell the police what he’d seen,” Jack told her, as if she was incredibly stupid. It was simple math to him, she could see. He needed a career in art, and Vera stood in his way—now Vera was dead. He needed a career in art, and Maddox’s testimony might put him behind bars—so Maddox had to die, too. And now Jade, who would almost certainly not figure it out, had to die just on the off-chance that she might.
It was a choice anyone might have made, she supposed. Weren’t there thousands of books about people doing horrible things and then trying to cover them up? But she would never have imagined that the choices would be made so casually.
“You’re a monster,” she whispered.
“And you,” he replied, “are about to be killed by Vera’s dear nephew. When the police go to your house in a few days, they’ll find a note that you thought it was him and you were going to look for evidence…and they’ll find you here.”
“They know it’s not him,” Jade said wildly. She had to distract him somehow. “They know. They’re looking for someone else. Every little bit of evidence you leave here will only lead them back to you.”
He froze for a moment. Then the knife came up again.
“You’re bluffing.”
Shit. Jade dove sideways as he lunged at her, hitting the ground with a cry of pain and pushing herself up. Adrenaline pushed the pain far away as she ran for her life, dodging around a tree and switching directions as fast as her legs would take her.
“How long do you think you’re going to last?” he called from behind her.
Jade’s answer was to throw open the car door in his face. He hit it with a curse and she sped away. She had to get to her car—
He was at the other door. The second she slid into the driver's seat, he’d be there with his knife. He began to circle, and she did as well, her eyes fixed on him warily. She couldn’t let him catch her. As soon as he caught her, he’d have the advantage—and that bloody knife was filling her with the sort of primal fear she didn’t think she’d ever experience.
No, she didn’t think her agent would ever send another writer away on assignment. Jade picked a direction and ran for her life. She just had to get to the walkway, where a pretty set of stones lined the path. She picked one up, turned around, and threw it. Jack staggered back with a scream.
When his head came up, blood dripping down his forehead, she knew she’d made a mistake. Now he was furious—and he wasn’t going to be talked out of killing her no matter what. She grabbed another stone and threw that, and then as he charged her, she did the only thing she could think of and charged him right back. She got to him a moment before he could swing the knife and batted his arm away. The knife clattered onto the pavement and she tackled him down, swinging for his nose with both fists.
They were so locked in their struggle that they didn’t hear the other cars approaching. It was only the yells that penetrated Jade’s consciousness, and the command that finally stopped them both in their tracks:
“Hands up!”
Jade stopped, and Jack took the opportunity to hit her full across the face. She felt herself hauled out of the way, and the next thing she knew, she was staring up at the clouds while shouts and threats came from somewhere nearby. Her face was wet, she thought dreamily, and she wiped her fingers across her upper lip. They came away bloody. That couldn’t be good.
“Miss Ruiz?” Constable Jones came into view, peering down worriedly. She slid an arm under Jade’s back and helped her up, craning to look into her eyes. “Miss, are you okay?”
“Um…” Jade found that the question was beyond her. “My nose hurts.”
“She’s in shock,” she heard Constable Jones say, and another officer came to help her up.
“What’s…happening?” Jade managed.
“Mr. Smith woke up, and identified Mr. Eason as the suspect. We were coming to warn you when Mr. Acker—Vera’s nephew—called to tell us that he’d seen two cars drive up to his aunt’s house, and that Mr. Eason was threatening you. Ah.” The policeman looked over her head. “Mr. Acker. Hello.”
“Huh?” Jade swung her head woozily to see Vera’s nephew standing in the open door of the house, his eyes sad. “You…you knew we were here?”
“I called the police as soon as I saw Mr. Eason get out of the car, and then I went to find a weapon.” His eyes were sad. “I’m very sorry, miss—I only realized a moment ago that the fight had already started. You seemed to have kept him talking for a while.”
Suddenly it seemed ridiculous—hardly five minutes ago, Jade had taken a wrong turn, and in the intervening 300 seconds, someone had tried to kill her. She was going to start crying. Or possibly scream. Jade was just opening her mouth to do so, in fact, when the wooziness took over and she crumpled to the ground.
She woke sometime later, with vague memories of being helped through the door of her cottage. She was cozy and warm, tucked up under the patchwork quilt, and her nose hurt terribly. She pushed herself up, wincing, and found a sheet of paper on the floor by her shoes.
Miss Ruiz—please call us when you wake up.
Probably the police. Jade poked gingerly at her nose and gasped with pain, then pushed herself up and stretched again. Dusk was falling, and the sky out the windows was a riot of reds and golds. She should call the police, and let them know she was okay.
She should. But first…
Jade pulled out the desk chair, sat down, and began to write.
Attempted murder, it seemed, did wonders for writers’ block.
The End
II
The Death Next Door
Cozy Mystery
About the Book
In the midst of the crush of a lifetime, Milly Dupont finds herself entangled in a murder mystery. Quiet little Milly that runs the quiet little tea shop across from the corner shop discovers that the shop owner has been possibly kidnapped, maybe even murdered. But where’s Davina’s body? With the help of Edgar, her ever observant cat and companion, Milly starts to put together clues that may lead to Davina, or to her killer. Wanting only to find out the truth about what happened to Davina, her friend and surrogate mother, Milly sets out to find the truth. But can she get to the truth before the assailant gets to her?
Coping with a snarky detective, few clues, and trying to run her business, Milly may be in over her head. Through persistence and a need to know what happened to Davina, Milly starts to find clues but is the suspect Davina’s boyfriend; Callum, Davina’s shop helper and Milly’s crush; or the unknown b
oyfriend Milly had only just found out about? With a cast of suspects to choose from Milly isn’t sure who to look at first but she has to find the real suspect before they find her, that’s the one thing she does know.
1
August
Milly Dupont danced around her kitchen, singing along to the song she had blaring in the shop’s kitchen as she decorated cream cakes and scones, completely oblivious and happy as she moved her round little body in what she considered to be a sultry and sexy manner. She was perfectly aware any viewer might have collapsed in fits of laughter but she let herself go with abandon, laughing with joy as she belted out the song.
She ended her dancing by singing along to the long “Ahhhhhhhhh” that finished the song, and smiled to herself. Her morning routine usually resulted in oddly decorated cream cakes and this morning was no different, she noted as she scrutinized her handy-work. Those three were far too rudely decorated to put out in the shop; she thought to herself as she moved the plates away. She’d share them with Edgar, her black cat, later after she had her tea. Or maybe she’d break into the treats earlier, for lunch, perhaps. Giggling, Milly exited the kitchen to the front of her tea shop to put the confections into the display case, turning on the machinery that would allow her to make tea, specialty coffees, and heat up whatever pastries her customers might want.
Finally, Milly had everything set up and she allowed her green eyes to trail off to the world outside as morning commuters began to pass by her shop. Most of the locals wouldn’t be in until later, preferring to frequent Milly’s shop at a later time of day so they could learn any gossip they might have missed on their morning rounds from their friends, before going home to prepare their family’s tea.
Wirkster was a tiny village but if one paid attention, Milly thought, there was a good deal going on. She knew for instance, that Mr. Carpenter passing by the window now was only going to drive up to the barn a mile up the road before turning off to meet his secretary for their morning assignations. For the last year, his wife had thought he was driving into work early to pick up a co-worker, when in fact, he was only going for a tryst. And there went Miss Carpenter, off to the market where she openly sold her crocheted crafts but secretly slid different pirated films into the towels and potholders she’d fashioned when her customer asked for a specific colour. Apparently this week’s best seller was candy-apple red cloche hats and came with a copy of a film about a man that made himself a suit out of metal. If customers only picked up their purchase or asked for a plain colour, the film was not included and Miss Carpenter did not tack on an additional fee. She’d not been caught yet but Milly suspected she would be before long.
Tying her long dark hair up into a braid and setting up the tables for her first customers, Milly wondered what news today would bring. She noticed it was almost 7 am now; Callum would be walking by her window soon. Pushing her glasses back up her nose Milly walked behind the counter, not wanting Callum Davidson to catch her waiting expectantly by the window again. Callum worked next door at the corner shop. He used to come in for a cup of tea every morning but his visits had become fewer after he’d caught her waiting for him at the window. Callum liked the young model types and at 31, with a frumpy waistline, Milly didn’t fit that bill. Sighing, Milly prepared a cup of tea anyway, in case he stopped by this morning.
She sighed as she saw his tall, curly and dark-haired frame walk by the window. Not today either, then. She sipped from the cup then put it down, focusing on the couple that walked in the door, obviously tourists because Milly had never met them before. Milly had grown up in Wirkster; she knew who every one of the villagers were, who they belonged with, and where they lived. These were strangers, therefore they must be walkers at least, tourists most definitely.
“What can I get you then?” Milly asked with a smile as the couple walked to the counter.
“Two cuppas and a toasted teacake for the Missus, please.” The man asked as they moved over to a table. Milly prepared their order and carried it over, collecting their payment before returning to the counter. Tourists sometimes forgot to pay, after all.
She listened to the couple discussing the path their walk was going to take today and thought it was a good day for a walk. The sun was out and some of last night’s chill had left the air, although the sun had yet to make it over the council building. Winter was coming but it still had a while yet. Milly would walk more if she had a dog but all she had was Edgar and he’d as soon drag Milly all over her small flat on top of the shop, as to go outside for a walk. His only walks outside happened in the night, when he could escape out the door, to do whatever cats do when they went out on the prowl.
Milly stood back up as Callum came running through the door, barely shutting it before shouting at Milly to call emergency services. Milly’s blood began to pound, worry settling in, but she could see Callum was fine so it wasn’t him needing looking after. She picked up the phone, and asked Callum what was wrong as she dialled.
“Davina isn’t in and the shop’s a wreck! There’s even blood on the counter! Something’s happened in there but Davina’s not in. I think she’s been murdered, Milly!”
Milly’s eyes widened as the operator answered and she almost forgot to reply to the woman that answered as she wondered who would have wanted to kill Davina.
“Police please,” she said, almost as an afterthought as Callum stood across the counter, running his hands through his hair over and over again. She noted a tear in the back of the dark-green jumper he wore and a long scratch down the left side of his neck.
Milly took the phone with her as she gave a running commentary to the operator and followed Callum back to the shop to wait for the emergency responders. She turned the small radio off behind the counter after walking in. The song about a sexy woman and miracles just seemed inappropriate to Milly as she observed the destruction in the tiny corner shop. Her mouth hung open as she took it all in, disbelief warring with what she saw before her.
The shelves had all been emptied, their contents strewn around the floor. Small muddy footprints were visible throughout the shop with several in one area overlapping and smearing into each other. As she looked around the floor she spied Edgar walking in through the open back door and tried to shoo him out but he looked around, walked over to the footprints, and circled around them for a moment before pouncing on the broken pieces of one of Milly’s shop tea mugs. Milly bent down to note that there was a lipstick print in the shade Davina always wore, on the rim of one side of a piece of the mug.
Edgar then made another move, this time bounding to the top of the counter, sniffing one spot on a corner. Looking closer, Milly saw that there was evidence there, evidence someone had hit their head extremely hard in that spot. Taking it all in, she stood back as the police arrived and started looking around. Milly knew the woman she’d spent the last few years sharing a mug of tea with every evening wasn’t going to be coming over ever again. Someone had murdered Davina Thompson.
“Mr. Davidson, we’ve noted the safe is open, can you tell us if anything is missing or was it left open at night?” One detective asked Callum.
Callum jumped when the officer spoke, he’d been staring at the hair left on the edge of the corner in horror and disgust with Milly and hadn’t been paying attention to them.
“The safe? Oh, there should be money in it. The money for the till this morning, at least. If it’s empty it’s been stolen.” Callum replied, unable to keep from staring at the evidence on the counter. “Are you going to have a look at this?”
“What’s that, sir?” The detective asked, looking in the direction Callum was pointing to. “Oh, someone will come along and bag it soon enough. Seems someone had a fall recently. Could have been anyone I guess.” The round man said as he walked by, looking at the cameras spread around the shop. “Do these work at all?”
“No, Davina kept insisting she was going to have them repaired but never did. She wouldn’t update or replace anything in here but…
” Callum’s words trailed off as the officer looked at Callum with suspicion.
“How long have you worked here, sir?” The man asked, his female partner looking up at his tone and walking over with a notepad out. She took down notes as Callum spoke.
“About two years, I suppose. I came to work here just after Milly opened her shop. Why?” Callum asked, a hint of nervousness causing his voice to shake.
“We’ll ask the questions, thank you, sir. Would you mind coming down to the station with us? We’d like to ask you a few more questions, please.” The female detective asked with a snarky tone. Milly glared at her and pulled Edgar tightly to her ample chest but said nothing as they led Callum out of the shop. Milly stared after them, again noting the tear in his jumper and remembering the scratch on his neck. Oh dear.
Several hours later, Milly learned that Callum was suspect number one. Other villagers had been questioned, and it was noted that Callum had often grumbled about Davina because she wouldn’t update the store to more efficient machinery, and she wouldn’t allow him to make changes of any kind. That combined with opportunity, the scratches on his neck, and the tear in his jumper, seemed to be all the police needed to list Callum as suspect number one. They weren’t even sure yet that Davina was dead and already they were accusing Callum!
Milly had different ideas and she suspected Davina was dead but not that Callum was the killer. No, she had two different suspects; she just didn’t know how to prove either case. Davina had a long-term boyfriend, Jimmie Eckols, that she thought was the prime suspect. Milly knew the man had a nasty temper and Davina’s recent revelation that she was seeing another man made Milly wonder if Jimmie had found out and gone made with jealousy. Davina wouldn’t tell Milly the new man’s name or where he was from; just that he lived in another village, and Davina was thinking of breaking it off with Jimmie because she’d grown tired of him. Perhaps the other man had grown tired of waiting and become angry with Davina? But what would either one have been doing in the shop with Davina so early in the morning, Milly wondered. And why take the money? Momentary impulse or a plan to throw off the police later?