Castle on the Hill

by Agatha Frost

  “I thought you said you were having trouble with prices?” Nancy muttered with a shake of her head. “These guys are really expensive, and it looks like you’ve got the best deal in the world.”

  “I work with invoices every day, and I have never seen a discount for two-hundred-pounds.” Nancy handed the paper back before leaning back in her chair. “In fact, I’m sure we used to order from those guys, but we stopped because they weren’t very flexible.”

  “Christopher put me in touch with them,” Liz admitted as she tucked the invoice back into her bag. “It’s not a big deal. I’m not going to turn down free stock.”

  “Well, obviously not,” Nancy said with a chuckle. “But what if it wasn’t free?”

  Liz narrowed her eyes on Nancy, unsure of what she was trying to get at.

  “Christopher clearly paid for most of it to get in your good books,” Nancy stated in a matter-of-fact voice. “C’mon, Liz! You were a detective. It’s obvious.”

  “Why would he do that?” Liz asked, her mind working overtime. “Why would anyone do that?”

  “He has a thing for you. You might have batted him away, but to everyone else with eyes, it’s obvious he’s still got the hots for you.”

  “He wouldn’t just throw his money around like that,” Liz said with a shake of her head, unsure if she believed it, or if she just did not want to believe it. “Especially after what’s just happened to The Sea Platter. He forced Daniel out for money, so why would he throw some away to help me out? He’s not like that.”

  “I can give you some suppliers,” Nancy said as she flicked through a notepad. “They might not be as cheap as Christopher made out, but I can have a look through our old invoices. We’re always changing to keep the gift shop fresh.”

  “That would be a great help,” Liz said, feeling like a fool for not pushing the issue of discount further when she had questioned Christopher about it. “Thank you.”

  Nancy promised to call later in the day with some contact details, so Liz quickly exited before Nancy turned the conversation back around to Simon.

  As she walked down the steps of the gallery, she grew angrier and angrier with Christopher for going behind her back, but she decided to confront him about it once she had calmed down. The last thing Scarlet Cove needed was another murder when one was still unsolved. For now, she was going to the shop to hopefully rack up some more sales before the end of the day.

  Hurrying across the road to Crazy Waves salon, she spotted Polly outside, dressed more like her old self again. Her beehive was back, as was her makeup, and she was wearing a leopard print blouse, with tight black jeans.

  “Hi, Polly,” Liz shouted, waving as she crossed the road. “How’re you doing?”

  “Hi, Liz,” Polly called back with a smile and a wave. “I’m okay, considering.”

  Polly frowned down at the ground, her thickly drawn-on brows tilting up her contoured, bronzed forehead.

  “Is everything really okay?” Liz asked, deciding her shop could wait. “Why aren’t you in the salon?”

  “I needed some fresh air,” Polly said, wrapping her arms around her body as a gust of wind brushed down the narrow street. “Mrs Burns told me about what happened with Daniel. It’s shaken me up a bit, I’m not going to lie.”

  “About the little commotion at the harbour?” Liz asked, wondering why Polly would be so shaken up by a brick through Christopher’s window. “I was there.”

  “No, not that,” Polly said, turning to Liz to look at her through her thick, false lashes. “They’ve arrested him for Nathan’s murder.”

  “What?”

  “Apparently, he was stalking Misty, so they put two and two together and searched his place,” Polly explained. “Found the murder weapon at the restaurant. Some giant axe thing, like the one the grim reaper uses.”

  “A scythe?” Liz mumbled, almost to herself. “It was just lying around at The Sea Platter?”

  “It was in the bins. Probably thought he could get away with it being collected and sent to the landfill. Just goes to show you don’t know anybody, not really. I never knew the real Nathan, and the whole town didn’t know the real Daniel.”

  Liz took a second to absorb the second-hand information, unsure of what to say. She wanted so badly to be able to storm into the police station, flash her badge, and look at the evidence first hand. Instead, she rested her hand on Polly’s shoulder, deciding not to push the subject

  “Do you feel any better?” Liz asked

  “I thought I would, but I don’t,” she said, her voice faint. “Nathan’s still dead, and I still don’t know how to move on with my life.”

  Leaving Polly to get back to work, Liz did the same. The rest of the day zoomed by; she barely remembered serving the handful of customers who entered her shop. When she was finished for the day, she hurried up to her flat.

  When she was faced with a microwavable meal at her kitchen counter, she thought over everything Polly had said. Daniel being arrested for Nathan’s death did make sense, especially if he had been stalking Misty. She knew Misty’s rejection of Daniel after one date was almost a motive to get revenge on her new lover, even if it did not fully sit right with her. She had thought she had known Daniel, even if she had seen a different side to him when he had been drunk at the castle, and when she had pushed him about his relationship to Nathan. As Polly had said, it just went to show how she did not really know him at all.

  Instead of eating her microwaved beef stew and sweet potato mash, she pushed it around the plastic tray as the steam vanished. She felt like she was missing something important, something crucial that would unlock the answer to this mess.

  “Do you think he did it, boy?” Liz asked Paddy when he wandered in from the kitchen after eating his own food. He looked up at her, his head tilted to the side. “No, me neither.”

  13

  The next evening, Liz offered to take Nancy to Coastline Cabaret. Partly as a thank you for being such a good friend during her troubles with Simon, but also because she wanted to speak to Misty about Daniel’s arrest. As usual, Liz arrived early, so she headed straight for the bar.

  “I’ve seen you hanging around here a lot recently,” Patsy said when Liz slid onto one of the empty stools. She stopped polishing, planted both hands on the bar, and arched her thin brows up her taut, smooth forehead. “You aren’t going to start any trouble, are you? I heard you were some kind of detective.”

  “Ex-detective,” Liz said. “Can I get two glasses of wine, please?”

  Patsy shrugged before grabbing two glasses and filling them with wine. After paying, Liz took the two glasses to find a seat at one of the tables. It was not that she felt uncomfortable around Patsy because she could not blame her for being a little on edge; her business neighbour had just been arrested for murder. As she found a free table, Nancy hurried in, unravelling her scarf as she looked around for Liz.

  “Sorry I’m late!” Nancy cried, gratefully accepting the glass of wine. “I had to stay at the gallery to sign for an order.”

  “Did you hear about Daniel?” Liz asked.

  “Never thought he had it in him,” Nancy said with bafflement. “I always thought he was so nice. And that crazy axe thing they found in his restaurant’s bin! Who would have thought it was him? It’s all everyone is talking about.”

  “Word travels fast around here.”

  “Gossip is the best pastime we’ve got,” Nancy said with a devilish smile. “It comes in handy at times.”

  Liz sipped her wine as she stared at the darkened stage. She knew the danger gossip could do to a case, especially in small towns where everyone believed every piece of information that was passed around. Liz wondered if the police took the gossip for fact because they had nothing else to go on.

  “I don’t think Daniel did it,” Liz said. “In fact, I’m almost certain he’s innocent of everything aside from lobbing a brick through Christopher’s window.”

  “I thought you’d be happy it was
all over?”

  “It’s all over if the right person is arrested and charged.”

  “But it has to be him,” Nancy insisted before taking a deep gulp of wine. “It all makes sense. He was jealous of Nathan, and he’s been stalking Misty.”

  “I understand the reasoning, but I just know it wasn’t him,” Liz said, knowing she was beginning to sound crazy. “Let’s call it a detective’s hunch.”

  “Ex-detective,” Nancy reminded her with a wink. “Is that why you asked me here? Is there more investigating to be done?”

  “I wanted a drink with my best friend,” Liz said with a casual shrug. “But if we talk to Misty before we go, I wouldn’t be mad about it.”

  “I get a night out,” Nancy exclaimed, tipping her glass to Liz. “And free wine! I would be home alone otherwise. Jack has gone up to see Simon for a boys’ night, although I imagine Natasha will be hovering around them, wiping up their crumbs and dabbing their chins when they dribble beer.”

  Liz imagined how different her life in Scarlet Cove would have been if she had not bumped into Nancy on her first day in town. She had not expected to find any friends; in fact, she had been looking forward to leading a solitary life where she did not have to pretend she was having fun in overpriced cocktail bars. She had come to Scarlet Cove to enjoy the peace and to paint, but since there was not much peace and she had not found much time to paint recently, she was glad she had a friend like Nancy.

  “While we’re on the subject of Daniel, did I ever mention he and Polly went on a couple of dates when she moved here?”

  “I had no idea,” Liz said, frowning as she placed her wine on the table. “I would say they’re a strange match, but her and Nathan were even stranger.”

  “I guess they just decided they were better as friends. I thought they were pretty chummy, but after everything that’s unravelled, maybe I was wrong. Daniel always seemed to be looking for ‘the one’. He was always dating someone, but it never went anywhere.”

  “That explains how he ended up on a date with Misty.”

  “He’s quite confident when it comes to the ladies,” Nancy said as her finger circled the rim of her wine glass. “He’d walk up to women and flat-out ask them if they wanted to go out sometime. He did it to me once, but I couldn’t stop laughing because I’ve known him since school. Most of the time, the women said yes because he was so charming.”

  “Doesn’t strike you as someone who would stalk and murder, does it?”

  “Could the police really be that wrong?” Nancy asked, a hint of disbelief in her voice. “I thought we could trust them?”

  “It’s not unheard of that they’ll put two and two together and get five,” Liz said, knowing all too well how wrong the police could get it, especially when pressure was being put on them by the media. “And if he was stalking Misty, it doesn’t mean he chopped Nathan’s head off. I saw him that night, and he was drunk. Scythes are heavy. I don’t think a drunk man could have knocked another man’s head clean off.”

  “So, you’re saying someone framed him?”

  “It’s not unheard of.”

  “But why?”

  “I don’t know,” Liz admitted, rubbing between her brows as the chatter grew in the bar. “Opportunity, perhaps? Polly didn’t have a bad word to say about Daniel when she told me he had been arrested for murdering Nathan. I don’t think she believes he did it either.”

  The lights suddenly dimmed, and unenthusiastic applause echoed around the bar. It was a lot busier than it had been on Liz’s last visit, and she was cynical enough to think it was because people wanted to get a look at the woman involved in the murder case.

  “I wonder what it will be today,” Nancy whispered as she reluctantly clapped her hands together.

  “Maybe it will be her looking in a mirror for an hour, wondering how she got so beautiful?”

  “She does seem good at it,” Nancy agreed, holding her hand to her mouth to stifle the giggles. “Oh, Liz, you can be wicked sometimes.”

  The curtains opened, a single spotlight illuminating the centre of the stage. Misty stepped out from the dark, as beautiful as always. Her floor-length black gown hugged every contour of her body, and her black hair was rolled off her face, letting her pale skin and blood-red lips draw the attention.

  Misty smiled into the crowd as the applause died down. Liz noticed that she did not seem as enthusiastic as the other times she had seen her on the stage. Misty glanced to the side of the stage, nodding to someone in the wings. Liz craned her neck, spotting Derrick giving her a thumbs up. ‘Defying Gravity’ from Wicked started to play, causing Misty to inhale deeply ready to sing the first note. The momentum built, the anticipation palpable in the air. Liz even found herself on the edge of her seat waiting to hear Misty sing. Just as she opened her mouth, ready to hit the first note, the music cut off, along with the lights. A groan of disappointment rattled around the bar.

  “What happened?” Nancy whispered.

  “I don’t know,” Liz replied. “Maybe a fuse tripped? I don’t think Misty is safe though.”

  The chatter grew louder and louder in the bar as phone screens began to illuminate small pockets in the gloom. The white glowing light was enough to see that Misty had vanished from the stage.

  “It’s alright everyone,” Patsy called as she hurried around the bar with a torch. “I think a fuse has blown. I’ll get it sorted. If you stay where you are, there’s a free round of drinks in it for everyone.”

  The angry chatter died down at the promise of a free drink. Liz, on the other hand, had other things on her mind.

  “C’mon,” Liz said, grabbing Nancy’s hand. “Let’s find Misty.”

  Leaving their wine behind, they weaved in and out of the tables towards the dark corridor leading to Misty’s dressing room.

  “I don’t like this,” Nancy murmured. “I don’t like this at all.”

  “I won’t let anything happen to you,” Liz assured her, squeezing her arm slightly. “You can go back if you want.”

  “And leave you?” Nancy countered, forcing a laugh. “Fat chance.”

  They continued down the dark corridor, Liz’s fingers dragging across the wall. She counted the doors as she went, pausing when she reached the one she remembered as Misty’s dressing room. She squinted into the dark, sure she could see the glittery star on the door.

  “Liz?” Nancy whispered as she tugged on her arm. “W-What’s that?”

  “What’s what?”

  “That.” Liz could just make out Nancy’s finger as she lifted it shakily, pointing towards a slightly open door.

  Liz strained her eyes into the darkness. Just as Nancy had, she saw a faint flickering light through the gap in the door.

  “Do you think it’s Patsy?” Nancy asked. “Fixing the fuses?”

  “It looks like a candle.”

  Liz let go of Nancy and headed to the door. It opened with a loud creak, revealing a wooden staircase. Cold air drifted up from the darkness, tickling Liz’s face. She pushed her foot onto the top step to make sure it could take her weight. It creaked loudly, but it held. Not thinking twice, Liz began her descent towards the flickering light.

  “You can’t be serious?” Nancy cried, yanking Liz back. “We don’t know what’s down there.”

  “Stay there,” Liz said, tugging her arm free. “I’m just checking it out.”

  “A serial killer could be down there,” Nancy protested. “But I don’t want to wait here on my own. If I die, I’m coming back to haunt you.”

  Fear knotted her insides as they carefully made their way down the squeaky staircase. She had no idea what she was going to find, if anything at all, but she had a feeling the candle was leading her towards something relevant. They reached the bottom, the air thick with damp; Liz was sure she was going to choke.

  “Hello?” she called down another corridor with even more doors. “Is anyone down here?”

  Liz’s voice bounced back at her. The candle sparkled at the e
nd of the corridor, its flame flickering and bouncing on a small table in what looked like a cleaning supplies cupboard.

  “What is it?” Nancy whispered, her nails digging into Liz’s arm. “We’re about to be sacrificed. I knew it. Why didn’t I go to church more?”

  Clutching Nancy’s hand firmly in hers, Liz set off towards the candle; she did not admit she was holding her friend’s hand as much for herself as she was for Nancy.

  When they reached the half-open door, Liz had not been prepared for what confronted them. Liz gasped, goose bumps creeping up her arms as the hairs stood on end.

  “Oh my God,” Nancy muttered. “What the -”

  Liz looked down at the tall candle on the table, which was surrounded with layers and layers of solid wax, concrete drips of the stuff dangling off the edge. Liz plucked the candle from its resting place, and held it up to the walls. Fear knotted inside her as a shiver of panic tingled across her shoulders.

  “It’s a shrine,” Liz said, her eyes dancing over the walls, which were completely covered in photos of Misty Rivers.

  Nancy took a step back, but Liz took one forward. She drifted the orange glow across the collage of pictures. She recognised some of them as the same headshots framing Misty’s mirror, but most of them were more candid and disturbing. There were pictures of Misty eating, pictures of her singing, and even pictures of her sleeping.

  “What is this place?” Nancy said, her voice hitching. “It’s sick.”

  Liz’s throat was completely dry; she could not speak. In the mass of pictures, she spotted a shelf of glass jars, the contents disturbing her even more than the photos. Clumps of jet-black hair filled each jar, and she did not need to be an ex-detective to know who the hair had belonged to. Below that shelf, there was another filled with costume jewellery, along with an empty bottle of perfume. Liz leaned in, the familiar sickly sweet scent still lingering on the nozzle.

  “There’s a padlock on the door,” Nancy said. “It’s usually locked up.”